


give it back to the birds and the bees and the viennese

by itsactuallycorrine



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: (but not their kids), 3+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Wedding Planner, Bellarke Fic Week, Canon Compliant, Drug Use, F/M, Future Fic, Jasper as cupid, Kid Fic, Kinda, M/M, Movie Quotation(s), One Shot Collection, Peyote, Pregnancy, Psychotropic Drugs, Road Trips, Snowed In, Surrogacy, Valentine's Day, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2018-03-12 07:38:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3349034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsactuallycorrine/pseuds/itsactuallycorrine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>oneshot collection for <a href="http://b-ellamyblakes.tumblr.com/post/110449172354/i-n-f-o-r-m-a-t-i-o-n-hello-fellow-bellarkers">Bellarke fic week</a> beginning 2/14/15</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. stupid cupid (stop picking on me)

**Author's Note:**

> collection title from the song "Down with Love" (do yourself a favor and listen to Barbra's cover)
> 
> day 01 ~~~ valentine's day au ---> title comes from the Connie Francis song

The targets were arguing again and it made Jasper wish that the arrows he carried had real, sharp, pointy ends instead of stupid love-power ends.

But, alas, he'd been relegated to Cupid duty. He wondered idly what Monty was doing - Monty and his guardian angel duty, which Jasper had shared with him until The Incident.

Man, you let  _one_ lousy guy get hurt on the job and you're busted back down to amateur hour and the degrading task of watching people make moony faces at each other.

Or not, he thought, watching the couple bickering on the sidewalk.

 

* * *

 

The file he'd received had been more than thorough: 

**Target 1** : Bellamy Blake, 28, cop, older brother, huuuuuuuge pain in the ass most of the time, but with a secret gooey center.

 **Target 2** : Clarke Griffin, 22, med student/artist/heiress, looked like a princess but had a rod of steel where her spine should be (metaphorically speaking).

 **Goal** : make these two dummies stop arguing - for the  _LOVE OF GOD_  STOP ARGUING - long enough to fall in love, but after following them around for an entire afternoon while they were trying to track down Bellamy's sister? Jasper could honestly not care less about love; he just wanted some peace and quiet.

And he'd finally gotten them to a point where they were at least making eye contact (a necessity if this was going to work) so he grabbed the first arrow, nocked it, aimed and fired, cheering when he made direct contact with the man's shoulder. The arrow dissolved like it had never existed, leaving no trace except for a phantom sensation that made Bellamy pause for the briefest moment before shrugging it off and finishing his impassioned argument.

That took Jasper back for a moment. He'd never seen the almighty Cupid arrow fail to deliver. With a grim sort of determination, he grabbed another one and went through the same motions, aiming at the blonde woman with the fierce frown this time.

Again, it made direct contact, but seemed to have no effect as the two lapsed right into their argument about where to look for the younger Blake, before moving, leaving Jasper gaping in their wake.

Could it be that these two were stubborn enough to withstand the force of love?

Jasper firmed his shoulders and continued to follow them, mentally calculating how many arrows he had left.

Even if it took his entire quiver, these two  _were_ going to fall in love.

That was a guarantee.

 

* * *

 

It turned out, Jasper thought mournfully as he stared into his empty quiver, it was much easier to  _say_ something was a guarantee than to, well,  _guarantee_ it.

A dozen arrows gone - all having made direct contact - and still he had nothing to show for it.

Bellamy and Clarke were in a cab, heading back to Bellamy's apartment in the off-chance Octavia was there, and Jasper tagged along, effortlessly sitting on the top of the car, pouting into his quiver.

He couldn't afford to screw this up, too - one more mark on his record and he'd be busted down to the most degrading, the most humiliating, job of all: tooth fairy.

Just the thought of touching all those nasty little kid teeth made his not-quite-corporeal, metaphysical flesh crawl.

When the car came to a halt, all three of the dejected passengers moved towards the building and into Bellamy's apartment, where someone was clearly rifling around in the kitchen.

"Octavia?" Bellamy called hopefully, taking a step forward, only to jerk to a halt when a man with close-cropped hair and a trimmed beard stepped out, bowl of cereal in his hand. 

"Just me. Still haven't found her?" the guy asked, taking another spoonful of something that looked deliciously full of sugar. Then he seemed to notice the girl with Bellamy. "Hey, Clarke."

"Miller," she acknowledged, then shook her head in frustration. "No, we've been all over - she's not at work, she's not at school, we checked every coffee shop in a 12-block radius. She's not answering her phone."

Bellamy's face took on a dark cast. "She better hope I don't find-" he began to bluster, but Jasper got distracted when he felt the familiar tingle of one of his own. 

The tingle turned into a shimmer of light and then a being popped into the room - one that clearly only Jasper could see and one that left him gaping. "Monty?!" he asked in joy, rushing forward to throw his arms around his best friend. "What are you doing here, man?"

Monty returned the hug and then tipped his head towards the other guy - Miller, Clarke had called him. "I got my new assignment." It was a mixed blessing - Monty lived for his assignments, but because of his gentle nature, he was typically given those who needed the most comfort. His last - a young girl with leukemia - had obviously moved on if Monty had been reassigned.

Jasper gave his shoulder a commiserating squeeze, then looked at Miller. "Wait, is he...?" But Monty was quick to shoot that down: no illnesses of any kind. It was a mystery.

"But you - what are you doing here, buddy?" Monty asked Jasper, who finally remembered his predicament and scowled over at his targets.

"Those two," he grumbled, "are a menace together. I used a whole quiver -  _twelve arrows_ \- and they still won't stop fighting."

"Twelve?! Oh, Jasper," Monty said with a disapproving frown, then glanced over at the duo. "But wait, they aren't fighting now."

And to be truthful, Jasper hadn't really noticed, but he turned now in amazement in time to see Clarke look out of the corner of her eye at Bellamy with concern. He saw as she began to reach out to press a comforting hand to his arm, only to stop short.

Then he noticed Bellamy say something to her quietly when she started picking at her thumbnail in a fit of anxiety and watched in awe as Bellamy's eyes softened when he looked at Clarke while Miller held her attention.

"It's possible," Monty said, "that the arrows didn't appear to work, because they didn't really have anything to do. You can't make two people fall in love if they already are."

Jasper shook his head. "I don't understand: they act like they  _hate_ each other."

"'Act' being the operative word in that sentence. It's a tale as old as time: two people too prideful for their own good, trying to save face by pushing each other away, like Benedick and Beatrice: ' _I do suffer love for I love thee against my will._ '"

"Who are they, old cupid targets of yours when you were starting out?" Jasper asked, then a defensive, "What?" when Monty just stared at him.

"Never mind," Monty sighed, and Jasper ignored the note of long-suffering in it. "The important thing is: if the arrows didn't work because they're already in love, why were you assigned at all? Why are you still here?"

A horrifying thought occurred to Jasper then. "You don't think I'm expected to make them realize it, do you? Because I don't know if I'm up to that! These two are the most stubborn people I've ever had the misfortune to tag along with."

Monty nodded. "That has to be it! What other reason could there be? And, come on, it won't be that hard - try out any of the old reliables and, by the looks they give each other when the other isn't looking, you should have them matched within a day."

 

* * *

 

The "old reliables" - as Monty called them - were not nearly as effective as promised.

First, Jasper had tried the "we're stuck in a confined space so we may as well spill all our feelings" trick by trapping them in the hall closet in Bellamy's apartment and jamming the lock.

Of course, he realized he'd forgotten to take cell phones into the equation when Bellamy made one quick call that had Miller (and Monty) turning around shortly after he'd left to let them out.

Jasper avoided looking at his friend - he was disappointed enough in himself.

Equally as big a failure (although less humiliating - well, for him) was the "we somehow got physically attached to each other" trap - and he'd spent a lot of time threading strands of Clarke's long blonde hair through the chains in Bellamy's watch while they were discussing their next plan of attack.

When it got to be too late and Bellamy offered to let Clarke crash at his place, Jasper took the initiative and made sure the couch was out as a possible sleeping arrangement. Clarke's wearily exasperated, "We're adults; we can share your bed, can't we?" was music to Jasper's ears and he thought he had it in the bag.

Until he realized that they really were that mature - they slept back-to-back and everything. No awkward morning contact, no half-awake early morning epiphanies, nothing.

Jasper didn't know who he was more disappointed for in that moment - himself that he was still there or the two of them for not getting to experience that feeling.

It seemed like he was doomed to failure:

\- having them reach for the same object without looking and ending up accidentally holding hands = fail

\- ruining Clarke's clothes so she had to wear Octavia's slightly smaller (and therefore tighter) clothes she'd left at Bellamy's = fail

\- causing a commotion to get Bellamy to run out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel = fail

\- endangering one so the other one would realize their importance =  _epic_ fail that had Jasper experiencing flashbacks to The Incident and nearly triggering his own panic attack

Nothing he was doing worked, until Octavia Blake walked in, smiling happily at the both of them. "Well, here's something I thought I'd never see. Clarke, what are you doing here? Or do I not want to know?"

As if they'd rehearsed it, Bellamy and Clarke stood and advanced on an unsuspecting Octavia and began shooting off rapid-fire questions: "Where have you been?" "Do you have any idea how worried your brother has been?" "Why aren't you answering your damn phone? Why even have it if you're not going to use it?" "Why didn't you let us know if you needed some time to yourself?"

Even Jasper was starting to feel a little cornered, so it was no shock when Octavia help up both hands and scowled at the pair. "Hey, hey, Mom and Dad, let's chill with the Spanish Inquisition, huh? I'm a big girl, I can go off-the-grid every once in a while."

Clarke was giving Octavia her best " _I'm not mad, I'm just disappointed_ " face while Bellamy's expression clearly said, " _Screw that, I'm mad!_ "

When he opened his mouth, Clarke laid a quelling hand on his arm and said calmly, "We understand that, but you really should let someone know. We were about ten minutes away from calling all the hospitals since it'd been almost 24 hours since either one of us had seen or heard from you."

A flush of shame crept up Octavia's neck and her defiant expression started to crumble. "I guess... I didn't really think of it that way. I'll try to give one of you a heads-up if it happens again, okay?" With a hopeful smile, she stepped forward and wrapped an arm around each of them, squeezing them into a big group hug. "You know," she said, voice entirely too innocent, "when you stop bickering, you guys make a really good team."

"Thank you!" Jasper said loudly, even though they couldn't hear him. "That's what I've been working towards."

Clarke pulled back first and nervously cleared her throat, then chuckled. "Yeah, well, it's not my fault that your brother hates me and picks fights with me."

Jasper and Octavia both turned to Bellamy, expecting this to set off yet another argument, but instead Bellamy was looking at Clarke with confusion. "Princess, I don't hate you.  _You_ hate _me_."

"What?! Bellamy, where the hell did you get that from? I mean, sure, you were kind of an ass when we first met - to be honest, you still can be kind of an ass now - but I've never hated you. I was just defending myself."

Like spectators at a tennis match, Jasper and Octavia pivoted their heads back to Bellamy. 

Who looked extremely uncomfortable. "Yeah, well." He rubbed the back of his neck, glancing at his sister out of the corner of his eye. "O, can you give us some space?"

Octavia looked thrilled with this recent development. "Absolutely. I just came to get my charger that I left here the last time and I'll get out of your hair." And she was as good as her word, leaving Bellamy, Clarke, and the thick tension between them.

Oh, and Jasper, too, standing there watching the whole thing.

It was times like these that he missed eating, because this moment deserved popcorn.

Clarke licked her bottom lip, glancing away for a moment, and then back to Bellamy. "So... what was it that you didn't want to say in front of Octavia?"

He blew out a breath, rubbing the heels of his palms against his eyes before he dropped his arms. "Look, Clarke, I've never hated you. In fact, I've kind of always...  _liked_ you."

Jasper booed at him while Clarke wrinkled her nose, then shrugged. "I like you, too, Bellamy. When you knock that chip off your shoulder, anyway."

"No, Clarke, I'm... that is, I've always been attracted to you. And maybe you're right, I do have a chip on my shoulder, because why would someone like you go for someone like me and-"

"Are you joking?" Clarke interrupted, her voice touched with anger. "I don't know, Bellamy, why would someone like me go for someone like you? Someone who is a great brother and a good friend, who has a big heart - even if he doesn't want anyone to know about it. Someone who likes children and lives a life of service protecting those who can't defend themselves."

Bellamy looked blown away and Jasper was pretty moved himself. "Clarke," Bellamy said, voice low as he took a step forward, only to falter.

"Kiss her, you moron!" Jasper yelled. "KISS HER! KISS HER! KISS HER!"

Almost like he'd heard, Bellamy jolted forward as if the thread that had been holding him back had been cut suddenly, cradling Clarke's face in his hands and meeting her lips with his.

A fuzzy feeling came over Jasper and he was suddenly transported, standing in a completely different city, with a file in his hand and a newly-filled quiver.

"Oh, come on!" he called fruitlessly at the sky. "After all that, I don't even get to see the good part?!"


	2. one song more song about moving along the highway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **day 02: road trip au**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title comes from Carole King's "So Far Away", even though that song does not fit with this story at all.
> 
> also (and this totally shows my age) part of this is based on a scene for one of my first otps, Dwayne & Whitley from _A Different World_

Clarke hears him when she's two terminals away, yelling at a no-doubt completely innocent airline employee, and the familiarity of his voice gives her pause. When he does the impossible and becomes even louder, a smile of fond exasperation crosses her face and she rolls her carry-on bag over in determination.

Walking up behind him, she places a hand on the back of his shoulder. "Bellamy, it's not his fault."

"Stay out of this, princess," he orders brusquely, then stops short when he realizes what he's just said, turning to her in shock. "Clarke?! What the hell are you doing here?"

She pulls him away from the desk with a hand around his elbow, smiling at the clerk's look of gratitude. "I'm flying back to Chicago."

"Well, obviously," he says with a roll of his eyes that does nothing to diminish the smile on his face. "But I didn't even know you were back in town."

"It was just for the weekend." She shrugs guiltily. "My mom needed me at a thing, so I knew I wouldn't have time to catch up with everyone. That's why I didn't let anyone know."

He nods slowly, letting his eyes slide over her until Clarke can feel herself flush. "Looks like Chicago is treating you well." 

Steeling herself against his smirk, she affords him the same treatment and meets his dark eyes with a smile she hopes is in the vicinity of enigmatic. "You're not looking so bad either." She tilts her head back to the terminal. "So what's the deal with the flight?"

His cocksure expression fades into a scowl. "Apparently there's a winter storm going on in Chicago and O'Hare canceled all flights."

"Are you kidding me?" Clarke manages after a shocked moment, then lets her eyes fall closed. "What a perfect ending to a crap weekend."

Bellamy's face is all hard angles and clenched jaw when she looks at him again. "I have to get to Chicago by 2 PM tomorrow. I've got a job interview that I can't miss."

A crazy thought occurs to Clarke, but it only takes her a moment to mull it over before she opens her mouth. "Is your car parked here or did Octavia drive you?"

 

 

 

 

It takes them more time to fight with the airline to get their checked bags than it does for them to come to a decision.

The way Clarke calculates it, they're looking at basically a 12-hour drive between DC and Chicago if they factor in stops for food and bathroom use. There's no reason that they  _shouldn't_ make it in time for Bellamy's interview in 19 hours.

Not that she'd ever say that aloud; a child of practicality and science she may be, but she's not above hedging her bets when it comes to some superstitions.

Bellamy takes the first shift behind the wheel, telling her to sleep, but Clarke has never been one for sleeping in a car and it's still too early for that anyway, though she'll no doubt regret it when it's her turn to drive while he sleeps.

"Fine then," he says with a huff when she explains this to him. "Tell me what you've been up to. Residency going well?"

"Really well," she answers with a pleased smile, turning towards him and tucking one leg up beneath her. "I love everything about it. The hospital's great, my apartment has an amazing view over the lake. This move was exactly what I needed, getting away from all the drama back in DC." Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she cocks a brow at him. "But it seems like you'll learn that soon enough. What made you decide to apply for a job in Chicago? I never thought you'd leave Octavia behind."

"Yeah, well." Bellamy shifts uncomfortably under scrutiny, taking his eyes off the road for a moment to glance at her. "She's got Lincoln and her own life going on. It's time for me to go live mine."

Clarke grins a little. "Let me guess, that's a direct quote from Octavia herself?"

He huffs out a laugh. "More or less. It also doesn't hurt that the interview is at the freaking Field Museum."

"Are you  _kidding_?!" she asks, breaking into a delighted laugh. "Bellamy, that's amazing!"

He grins widely, looking like a little kid on Christmas. "It's scary as hell," he admits. "But I want it. I want it a lot."

"I've never known you to not go after what you want all guns blazing, so I'm sure you'll get it."

His smile dims a bit and he shoots her a guarded glance, before he distracts her by asking about her favorite places around the city.

 

 

 

 

 

They find a not-terribly-shady rest stop shortly after passing through Pittsburgh, although Bellamy still appears nervous when they part ways to use the separate facilities. 

Clarke grins a little at his predictable protectiveness, although she doesn't find as annoying as she'd remembered it being during her undergrad years. Then, of course, it'd been four hours of dealing with watching him mother-hen Octavia and eventually everyone in their small group, including Clarke herself.

He's waiting for her outside the ladies' room, arms crossed and looking as intimidating as possible, even though they are alone in the building. "Bellamy," she sighs, shaking her head at him.

"It's after 11 PM and who knows who might be stopping by? Besides," he says with a grin, "do you know how much shit I would catch if you got abducted or something on my watch?"

"I think anyone who dared try it might be in for a surprise," she replies breezily, walking past him out the doors.

Bellamy tosses her the keys and moves to the passenger door. "Let me guess: you took some kind of self-defense course as soon as you moved to Chicago?"

Clarke slides into the driver's seat and starts the car, nodding. "I'd be stupid not to, but also, as a doctor, I have a very comprehensive understanding of human physiology." She glances at him and smirks when she sees his confused look. "Put simply, I know all the places to make it hurt most."

He chuckles a little uncomfortably and shifts in the seat. "God, that was scary." He pauses and then grins at her. "And I have to admit, kind of hot."

The laugh that bubbles out of her takes her almost as off-guard as his remark and she has to make herself focus on pulling out of the parking lot and back onto the interstate. "Wait until you meet the friends I've made in Chicago. It's all their influence." And she proceeds to tell him all about Lexa and Anya, until she hears him begin to softly snore.

She glances over and sees his head propped up by the window and that his mouth is open just the slightest bit, making him look a little bit dopey, but not unattractively so and she sighs again.

Of course, he couldn't even be anything less than adorable when he slept, which shouldn't be a surprise. Both Blakes were blessed with more than their fair share of the gorgeous gene.

It is just something she's come to accept over the years.

 

 

 

 

 

She drives over the Ohio-Indiana state line just as Bellamy begins to stir a bit. "We can trade off again," he offers, voice still rough with sleep (which does _not_ give her goosebumps), but she just waves him off.

"I'm fine. Do you want to stop somewhere? It's almost 4:30." Her nerves jangle a bit now that he's awake and sitting up, turning to her in the dark pre-dawn morning hours.

"No, if you're good, we can just keep driving for a while. But you should let me take over at the wheel again. Get some sleep yourself."

Clarke hums noncommittally and doesn't comment further and they drive along in comfortable silence, until Bellamy flicks on the radio, tuning it to a local classic rock station.

They both groan when Journey comes on and Bellamy slaps at the power button, stopping it before Steve Perry can even finish the phrase "small town girl".

"I hate that song," he mutters. "Octavia was obsessed with Glee and it ruined that song for me forever."

Clarke grimaces and nods. "That's like the fourth time I've heard that song in the past 72 hours." 

Bellamy laughs a little. "Was the mysterious 'thing' your mom needed you in town for a bad karaoke competition?"

She smiles, albeit weakly, and says with a shrug, "No, it was her wedding."

Out of the corner of her eye, she can see him sit up at attention at that, but keeps her gaze on the road. After a beat, he exhales at length. "Your mom got remarried?"

"Yeah," is all she can manage and she's grateful when he doesn't push, just starts on a tirade about the "irresponsible writing choices" made on Glee, which has her in stitches as the sun starts to rise.

 

 

 

 

 

The thing is, they should've know that when the flight was canceled that they may not have the easiest time on the roads once they got closer to Chicago.

And yet, the instant they see the grey clouds looming and hit the wall of wall of falling snow, they're both taken by surprise. 

Just southeast of Lake Michigan, Bellamy slows to a crawl and Clarke tries not to be anxious about the number of cars they see in ditches. They're both sitting in tense silence when Clarke's phone chirps at her with a traffic alert - the interstate is closed up ahead and they're going to be forced to take a detour.

Bellamy swears under his breath, white-knuckling the steering wheel as they start to skid a bit as he moves to the next available exit. 

Clarke doesn't realize she's holding her breath until they're on a straight jut of road again and it releases from her in shaky bursts.

"Okay, I'm still getting signal for the GPS, so that's something," she says, trying to stay positive. "We'll just have to take some smaller highways and back roads into the city."

He just groans in response, not daring to glance away from the road for even a second. "Just make sure you give me plenty of notice when and where I'll have to turn."

She's pleased to find that she and Bellamy work together well as a team: he trusts her enough not to second guess her decisions about what route to take and she has complete faith that he is the best person in this car to handle the actual driving part and doesn't make a peep, even when they slide or drift a few times.

She keeps them moving in the right direction and he keeps them on the road. 

Until, that is, they feel a shift in the car that is obviously a tire gone flat and have to pull off to the side of the road.

Clarke pulls out her gloves and hat and meets Bellamy's incredulous glance with an impatient look. "What? I'm not going to make you get out alone."

He just smirks at her a bit, but it's more bemused than belittling. "Whatever you say, princess."

They both bundle up so the only skin showing is what's around their eyes and move to the rear tire that's the issue. Bellamy pops the trunk and removes the spare, only to swear when he can't find the jack or the lug wrench that he swears up and down were in there the last time he saw them.

She pulls her scarf down a bit to all but yell over the wind. "Bell, it's fine. We'll just have to call someone to come get us." As she moves to do just that in the warmth of the car, she can see that he's still upset as he jerkily replaces the spare and slams the trunk closed.

The interior of the car has started to cool dramatically with the engine off, so Clarke stays bundled up as she makes the necessary calls for assistance, only to groan and swear when she's told that it'll be at least two hours before someone can get to them. The dispatcher on the other end is sympathetic but says that their best bet is to hope for some good samaritan to take pity on them before then.

When she tells Bellamy this after hanging up, he just snorts. "Yeah, as long as our good samaritan doesn't end up being a serial killer or a human trafficker or something." Clarke just stares at him in disbelief as he restarts the engine and cranks the heat until he asks defensively, "What?"

"I never knew you were such a paranoid person," she says. "Or such a morbid one."

He smiles grimly. "Let's just say that Octavia and I didn't always live in the greatest of neighborhoods." But then he shakes his head. "I don't know, I guess it's probably pretty sad to go through life suspecting the worst out of people."

"Although I bet it's a great feeling when you finally realize someone's not awful. It's most likely a lot better than expecting the best out of everyone, only to be disappointed." 

He looks at her thoughtfully. "Is that what you do?"

"Me?" Clarke shakes her head. "No, I'm a realist - I don't expect the good or bad out of anyone, just the normal mix that most humans have. So sometimes I'm disappointed and sometimes I'm surprised. It keeps life interesting," she says with a grin.

"You were one of the surprises," he says quietly - so quietly she almost does realize that he spoke at all until she turns to him and finds his dark, intense gaze on her. "I was expecting an entitled, classist socialite and you were - are - one of the best, most real people I've ever met."

Touched, she stares at him, until he clears his throat and looks away, the slightest color touching his sharp cheekbones. "Bellamy," she finally murmurs, but he shrugs it off.

"We should probably only run the engine in short bursts. When it's off, we can move to the backseat - I've got some blankets back there - and cuddle up."

She chuckles a little and he looks at her in question. "It's just - Bellamy Blake, trying to get me into his backseat to 'cuddle'. It's like all my freshman-year dreams are coming true."

The joking leer he sends her way is a little too uncertain and she can see the surprise in his eyes. "You're on to me, and it only took me almost ten years to snare you in my trap."

She rolls her eyes at him for lack of a better response and they synchronize their migration to the back, trying to let as little of the warm air out as possible. 

Nonetheless, she's shivering as he shakes out the big blanket and tucks it over them. "Come here," he says gruffly, pulling her into his chest and wrapping an arm around her.

She draws in a deep lungful of air and catches a hint of the cologne he'd most likely put on almost 24 hours ago. 

His hand outside the blanket is creating friction against her arm, trying to make the shivers subside, and she turns her face into his soft shirt. 

"It wasn't all one-sided, you know," he confesses, the corner of his lips tilting up a bit when she looks up at him. "Your crush or whatever when you were in undergrad. I never thought in a million years I'd have a chance, not after we got off on the wrong foot, so I never pursued it. But... I, uh, I had a big thing for you back then."

Clarke sits up in shock, then drives her elbow into his side, drawing a protesting groan from him. "Bellamy! I can't believe this. How long?"

"How long what?" he plays dumb and tucks her head back onto his shoulder, his fingers tangling in her hair just the slightest, brushing through the strands as they pull free.

It sparks something deep within Clarke and her stomach clenches, making it hard to focus on what she'd been asking. "How... how long did you feel that way?" she asks breathlessly.

He doesn't say anything, but he does wrap his free arm around the front of her torso and, with the slightest amount of pressure, he's moved her until she's laying mostly across his lap, her head pillowed on his left arm. She turns her head up until her chin is all but touching her shoulder, patiently waiting on his answer.

When it becomes clear that she's not going to let it slide, he blows out a breath and glances out the window. "It never really stopped."

Stunned, Clarke turns further into him until she can look up into his face easier, ignoring the fact that she's now cradled, for all intents and purposes, within his embrace. "Bell," she whispers, waiting until he meets her gaze, then reaching up to touch the side of his face, fingers tracing the freckles on his cheekbone, then along his jaw, to his chin and across his lips. 

It's hard to tell who moves first or if they move together, synchronized in this as they are in most things, but suddenly his lips are pressing to hers, gently testing, then with a firmer pressure that Clarke eagerly meets with her own. 

He pulls back a little. "What are we doing?" he asks, voice hoarse and low in the quiet of the car.

"I don't know," Clarke answers honestly, then moves her hand to the nape of his neck, carding her fingers through his darks curls, "but don't stop."

Bellamy answers her plea and she releases a needy whimper when his teeth tease her bottom lip.

He smiles against her mouth and she mutters, " _smug ass_ ," and that's the last semi-coherent thought she has until someone taps on the glass right behind her head minutes (or maybe hours) later.

All she knows is that when she pulls back, Bellamy's lips are swollen and his eyes are blown black and he looks wrecked.

And her life is suddenly filled with even more wonderful possibilities.


	3. now i am yours to choose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **day 03: first date au**
> 
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> 
> canon-compliant (so far) beginning in 2x06: three times where Bellamy thought it was their first date, one time when it actually was

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> based (very loosely) on [this deleted scene](http://youtu.be/Fpd-koi_I6c) from _The Office_
> 
> title from the song "The Words" by Christina Perri ( _that video though_ )

i.

Clarke walks up to him with a grim smile once they're back in Camp Jaha and Finn has been taken into the guards' custody. "I don't know about you, but I could use a drink."

Bellamy feels his mouth go dry and looks away for a moment to compose himself. Something has changed between them recently - since her return and the hug and their fireside chat - and her invitation seems loaded with possibility. 

He nods, clears his throat, and looks back at her. "Sounds good. Let me just check on-"

"Clarke," her mother calls from across the camp and they both turn to see Abby Griffin standing expectantly, waiting for Clarke to come to heel.

Bellamy turns back in time to see the flash of defiance across Clarke's face but it melts into resignation. "Rain check?" she offers and he can do nothing but nod.

 

 

It turns out, delaying it does nothing but give him time for anticipation to raise his expectations to an unhealthy degree. They have little chance to talk, so almost all communication between the two of them is through facial expressions and small gestures across the camp.

When Octavia catches them at it once as they're sitting fireside, she looks at him askance, which he questions with a defensive, "What?" as he loses sight of Clarke.

She begins to shake her head, but seems to think better of it. "Bell, just... be careful, you know?"

"O, I would never do anything to hurt Clarke." And he may be a little hurt to know that she thinks that of him.

"It's not Clarke I'm worried about," she says before she gets to her feet and walks away.

 

 

Clarke finally cashes in on the rain check the next day and Bellamy is more than happy to follow her over to an empty table as she goes to get them each a tin cup of whatever the Arkers have brewing up.

Nerves dance in his stomach and he surreptitiously runs a hand over his jaw, wishing that he wasn't quite so busted up after the past few days. 

When she starts walking back towards him, the firelight paints her silhouette and for a moment, it looks like she's glowing and his heart begins to pound in his chest.

How did it come to this? he wonders, not for the first time. What very specific circumstances have led them to this moment, to this precipice?

When she smiles wryly at him, it almost makes all the pain and the grief and the worry and the anger that have been the touchstones of his life worth it.

Until, that is, she pulls out the hand-drawn map of Mount Weather and says, "I remembered a few more details and added them in last night."

His heart withers and disappointment is a sharply bitter bile at the back of his throat.

Of course, it's business between them; it always has been. He was stupid to think it could be anything more.

She's talking, her pencil moving along the paper, clearly showing him something, but she must realize he's distracted because she looks up at him with worried eyes. "Bellamy?"

He shakes it off and hopes all traces of what he's feeling is off his face, when he looks down at the map with new determination. 

"Okay," he manages, "tell me again."

 

 

 

 

 

 

ii.

Tensions run high among all the remaining members of the 100 after the seizure of Mount Weather, but none as high as the tension that lay between Bellamy and Clarke.

There is so much left unsaid between the two of them, so much broken trust and regret and anger, that it's weeks before their relationship is back to anything even approximating what it was before the mountain.

Which, he tells himself in retrospect, should have been his first clue.

In his own defense, though, when Clarke comes to him and invites him to dinner, he's exhausted and a bit light-headed from the physical exertion of training with the Guard.

Octavia has been telling him for days that he's pushing himself too hard, that there's a line between being persistent and being a dumbass. But he can't help but feel that he has something to prove - to himself, to the Guard, maybe even to the girl standing in front of him now.

As he wavers on his feet, gaping at Clarke and wondering if anyone else sees the little sparks of light around her head, he admits for the first time that maybe his sister has a point.

"Bellamy?" Clarke asks in concern, reaching up as if to touch his arm, aborting the movement before contact is made. Something in his chest tightens as she fists her hand and drops it back to her side. "Are you alright? Your eyes look a little unfocused."

"What?" he asks dumbly, then shakes his head a bit. "Sorry, it's just been a long day. But you said... I mean, dinner would be good."

The corners of her eyes crinkle a bit, the closest that he's seen her come to a smile since before Finn's death, and they start moving together towards the improvised mess line.

"Are you sleeping okay?" she asks out of the blue. Bellamy glances at her out of the corner of his eye, but she's staring steadfastly forward. "Since your return?"

He jerks a shoulder uneasily. "There are good nights, and there are bad nights." Of course, there are a lot more of the latter than the former, but he doesn't feel comfortable disclosing that. "The exercise with training helps."

She hums in acknowledgement, leaning in closer to him as they move to the end of the line for rations. "I've seen you out there in the yard a lot. More often than not, I'd say. Is that why?"

"It's part," he confesses quietly, then sighs when she looks at him in expectation. He knows what she wants to hear, knows she's waiting for him to open up to her. And a part of him wants to, is dying to explain that he's searching for a purpose and feeling aimless, without a place in this new order of things. If he's not the rebel king of the 100 and there's no war to fight to protect his people and she doesn't trust him enough to be her second-in-command, where does that leave him?

But he says none of this and just shuffles along as the line moves forward incrementally.

He pretends not to see the flash of disappointment in her face as she, too, turns forward, and they remain silent as they get their allotted portions and find a table.

The silence is fraught but after a few bites, Clarke's face softens a bit. "I can't believe after everything we've been through, we're still eating Ark rations."

He chuckles softly. "Mount Weather may have been hell, but damn, that was good food. And I only managed to get a few scraps that Maya smuggled to me."

"Right?!" Clarke looks up at him, eyes bright in the twilight. "There has to be some way that we can use a similar kind of hydroponic system to grow food."

"If you promise the kids chocolate cake, I'm sure you'll have a very loyal crew to help you build it." Bellamy looks down at his unappetizing rations and, as has been happening frequently, his hunger is gone. He pushes away the plate a bit.

"Bellamy," she says at length, resting her hand over his where it fiddles with the spoon. "I know it's not chocolate cake, but you need to eat, to keep your strength and caloric intake up. Especially with the energy you're exerting during training." Her eyes, when she looks up at him, are soft and imploring. "I worry about you. And I miss you. I don't want anything to happen to you on my watch again."

He turns his hand under hers, so his palm cradles hers. His hand is big enough that his fingers touch her wrist and he feels her pulse jolt a bit, making his own answer in a similar fashion. "Clarke," and if his voice is a little deeper than normal, a little shakier, he hopes she doesn't notice. "I'm okay. It's okay."

She pulls her hand back and shakes her head, impatient now. "No, it's not and you're not. Anyone with eyes can see that. But I..." She falters a bit, looking down at the table, then back at him, determination stamped all over her features. "I need to know that it could be, that _we_ could be, okay. One day."

He stares at her for a long beat and wonders if she's really asking what he thinks she's asking.  _Screw it_ , he thinks.  _There's only one way to know for sure_. Just as he opens his mouth, his sister walks up to the table.

"Made it through half your rations, huh? Well, that's better than yesterday, when you just moved them around." Octavia drops her hand to his shoulder and squeezes. "I knew if anyone could get you to take it easy for a bit and actually eat, it would be Clarke."

And, all at once, it falls into place. The questions about his sleep, the pressure to eat more, her worry.

Clarke hadn't been trying to re-establish their partnership, their friendship, their... well, whatever.

She'd been doing a favor for Octavia.

Octavia, who she felt guilty about abandoning in Tondc when the missile was being launched.

It isn't about him, about the two of them, at all.

He feels like a fool then - a desperate, lovesick fool - and stands, grabbing his dinner off the table. "Yep," he says, fixing a smirk on his face, avoiding looking directly at Clarke. "Now if you both will excuse me, I'll go finish this in my room before I call it a night."

And he walks away, ignoring both of their calls, dumping the last of his rations in the trash.

 

 

 

 

 

 

iii.

When they decide to secede from Camp Jaha, from the Ark, and re-establish their own camp again, it leaves them with little time for recreation or personal drama.

Between the relief of that and how much he feels he's learned by working with the Guard, Bellamy is feeling optimistic a few months later as things begin to slow down a bit.

That optimism lowers his guard, which is how she's able to slip in again.

It starts small - the two of them meeting to discuss camp problems, to find solutions. He feels back on an even keel with her, like they're partners again, even if the Ark and the Grounders still see her as their official leader.

Bellamy has no problem with that - Clarke's patience far exceeds his own when it comes to politics.

But within in the camp, they're equals.

So, of course, old patterns lead to old feelings, and Bellamy wants to tear out that part of him, but at the same time, he's never felt better.

For the first time in too long, he thinks there might actually be a chance - a  _real_ chance - for him and Clarke.

And he's riding the high of that realization when he walks up to her for a change and asks her to share a meal with him. 

"Is there something we need to discuss? Did one of the kids get into something they weren't supposed to?" she asks, her tone fondly exasperated. 

"No," he answers with a chuckle. "Just dinner - a nice relaxing meal where we will not discuss camp disputes or Grounder politics or winter preparedness."

She looks up from the makeshift bandages she'd been storing and smiles softly at him. "That sounds good. Give me an hour and I'll meet you by the fire."

"Great," he says, with a smile of his own, staring down at her, heart racing. "An hour. Okay."

She laughs at him a little and gives his shoulder a push. "Okay, but you have to actually leave so I can meet you on time."

He feels his face heat and looks away, smile turning wry. "Right. So, an hour? I'll see you then." But he can't resist throwing her one more smile over his shoulder as he walks out, finding her gaze still on him as well.

 

 

He uses the time to dunk his head in some cool water, both to clean up and to cool down the blood pounding through his veins.

Carefully, he chooses his clothes, sorting through his meager selection of shirts until he finally comes to the black t-shirt that Clarke seems to appreciate the most, if her frequently lingering gaze is anything to go by.

He touches up the smoothness of his cheeks and jaw with the blade he uses as a razor, grateful that his hands aren't betraying his nerves.

Finally, when the hour has passed (although it felt more like an eternity) he makes his way to the fire that is central to their camp to wait for her.

What he sees, however, is that she's already beat him there, sitting next to Monty and laughing at something that Monroe is telling her, a dinner plate balanced precariously on her lap.

"Bellamy!" Jasper calls from a seat right next to him, raising his cup in tribute. "Clarke told us you wanted to have a relaxing night, boss, so we made up a fresh batch of moonshine and grilled up the primest cuts of jaguar just for you. Come on over and sit here," he says, patting the log next to him. "Man, you look nice tonight. And you smell all clean!"

Bellamy stays frozen to his spot and just stares at Clarke for a long moment, who meets his gaze questioningly. He shakes off his chagrin and moves next to Jasper, taking the plate that Miller offers him and giving Harper a small smile as she greets him.

Later, after the fire has been banked and the drunks put to bed, Clarke walks beside him as they return to their respective tents. "Did you enjoy your relaxing night?" she asks.

And he's not lying when he answers, "Yeah I did." Maybe it's the effect of a few too many glasses on moonshine, but something makes him continue. "It's not exactly what I had in mind when I asked you, though."

She stops and looks up at him and he can see that she's a little hurt, although she's trying to hide it. "Oh?"

He takes a step closer, into her space, and stares down at her, watching as her eyes widen, then darken, as her lips part to allow her tongue to take a nervous pass at the bottom one. "Few too many people," he answers, voice gone hoarse. "I was thinking of something a little... simpler."

"Simpler?"

"Well," he says, smirking a bit at her husky, breathless question, "maybe not simpler. Maybe just... more intimate." He lets his chin dip a little, delighting in the way she tips her face up towards his, and he lingers with his lips a hairsbreadth away from hers, until he can taste the moonshine on her breath. Then he pulls back, relishing her disorientation, as he says, "Goodnight, Clarke," and ducks into his tent.

It's about time that she was the one left wondering what the hell happened.

 

 

 

 

 

 

+i

The next morning, Clarke seems to be acting normal, and Bellamy can't help but be a little miffed about it. He takes some of his frustration out on a group of unsuspecting hunters when they return without a kill before he notices Clarke approaching him.

"That was a little harsh," she says mildly, eyeing him with concern. "Do you need some of Monty's hangover remedy? It smells vile, tastes worse, but it seems to do the trick."

Rolling his shoulders, Bellamy huffs out an offended breath. "I'm not hungover after a few glasses of moonshine. I can handle my liquor."

"The dinner last night was supposed to relax you."

He side-eyes her. "Well, I'm not feeling very relaxed."

"I can see that." She considers him for a minute, then says, "I need to go get more seaweed. Why don't you come along as my escort? I think getting out of camp would do wonders for you."

Looking down at her, he sees something behind that blue gaze, something she doesn't want him to know, and he wonders for a despairing moment if she's honestly as unaffected by him as she acts. "Yeah, okay," he agrees petulantly. "I'll meet you by the gate in 10."

She's waiting for him with a bulky pack and as they set off towards the river, she follows his cue and remains silent. 

It's nearing afternoon when they make it to the river bank and she's slightly breathless as she drops the pack to the ground. 

"What the hell did you bring?" he asks, watching in amusement as she gracelessly collapses to sit on the ground. 

Patting the ground beside her, she sends him an enigmatic smile. "Come and see."

With a shrug, he does as she asks, dropping to the grass beside her as she opens the bag. She passes him a full canteen, then proceeds to unpack a variety of leftovers from dinner last night, plus a small packet of the sweet red berries that Bellamy has a fondness for.

He's beginning to get the idea, but can't help asking, "What's all this for?"

She leans into him a bit and looks up from beneath her lashes. "Do I have to have a reason? You were the one who wanted a meal that was a little more _intimate_." The word hangs on her lips as she smirks coyly, and Bellamy can feel his heart rate pick up.

But he's been burnt before, so he can't help asking, "Did anyone put you up to this?"

The surprise wipes her expression clean. "No! Of course not, Bellamy."

He narrows his eyes at her. "Is there something important regarding the camp or the kids we need to discuss?"

"Not that I know of."

"And no one's coming to join us?" When she just shakes her head, he feels the remaining tension leech out of him and he can't help the pleased smile that crosses his face. "So it's just us, and this food?"

"Mmhmm," Clarke agrees, eyes going limpid. "And I made sure they all knew we'd be gone the rest of the day."

He stretches out his legs, wrapping an arm around her waist. "The rest of the day, huh? How are we going to fill all that time?"

She smiles wryly, leaning into his side. "Well, until we can find a broken down amusement park with a still-functioning rollercoaster, I guess we'll just have to settle for amusing each other." A thought crosses his mind and he can't suppress the wicked smile that accompanies it. "What?" she asks suspiciously.

"It's nothing," he manages around a laugh, then winces when she pokes his side. "I was just thinking, if you really want to go up and down, that could probably still be arranged."

She leans back, mouth agape, then surprises him by chuckling and shrugging a bit. "Maybe on our next date," she says with a grin, and he can see the promise of heat in her eyes before she turns back to her pack. 

_ Date, _ he thinks in wonder. Such a small word and yet, in this moment, it was everything - a confirmation of what had been, a beginning to what will be. 

A hope for a future with this maddening, stubborn, beautiful girl.

Looking down at her as she starts opening the wrappers sealing their food, he's amazed to find that it doesn't seem like such an impossibility anymore.


	4. as you wish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **day 04 ~~~ first ‘i love you’ au**
> 
>  
> 
> modern au: Bellamy’s nephew is an inadvertent matchmaker (kinda?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **warning** : may include some unpopular movie opinions

“I've been saying it so long to you, you just wouldn't listen. Every time you said 'Farm Boy do this' you thought I was answering 'As you wish' but that's only because you were hearing wrong. 'I love you' was what it was, but you never heard.”   
― William Goldman,  _The Princess Bride_

 

* * *

 

 

"Is that what you say to Auntie Clarke?"

Bellamy stops reading abruptly and lowers the book to look at his nephew in shock. His own dark, intense eyes look out at him from a face that's the perfect blend of Octavia and Lincoln, with Bellamy's freckles. His first instinct is to bark out a childish, " _No, gross! I don't like Clarke_ ," but he settles for a calm, "What makes you say that, buddy?" instead.

Nick shrugs. "'Cause she's your princess, right?" he reasons as only an eight-year-old can. 

Bellamy chuckles a little, a nervous sound to his own ears, and marks their place in the book with his finger. "That's just a nickname, my way of teasing her a little bit."

"Because you like her," Nick says with a nod. "But Mama told me that if a boy likes a girl, he shouldn't tease her. He should just be nice to her and treat her like a friend."

"Right," Bellamy says, pouncing on the last word. "That's just me being friendly with Aun- with Clarke."

His nephew grins in an elfish way that's all O. "Okay, Uncle Bell. But if you really don't  _like_  like her, you shouldn't look at Auntie Clarke like this." And he widens his eyes, gaze going soft, and he does a pretty good moony impression, mouth slightly open with his hands under his chin.

Bellamy can't stop the laugh that bubbles up. "Little brat," he growls fondly and reaches forward to tickle the little boy on his side, making him squirm against his galaxy-print sheets, until he's shrieking with laughter. 

When they finally calm down, Bellamy picks the book up from where it fell against the carpet, accidentally flipping too far and spoiling part of the story for Nick with the illustrations in this particular edition.

"Whoa, this has  _pirates_?" he asks in glee, taking the book from his uncle's hand to look at a drawing of the masked Dread Pirate Roberts.

"And sword-fighting and torture and poison and all that good stuff." Bellamy grins at Nick's morbid enthusiasm over all of that. "You're just like the kid in the movie," he mutters.

"Wait. Uncle Bell." Nick's expression goes serious. "There's a _movie_  of this and we're reading it instead of watching?!"

"Reading's good for you, Nicky. And here's a little tip," he says, leaning forward confidentially, "the book is usually better than the movie anyway."

Nick mulls that over for a minute. "Even in this case?"

"Well," Bellamy drawls, shifting uneasily, "there are differing opinions."

That pretty much settles the debate and Bellamy ends up breaking Octavia's very strict rules about Nick watching TV so close to bedtime.

 

* * *

 

 

"I had an interesting dinner at Octavia's last night," Clarke says conversationally a few days later as they sit down on the patio of a taco place that's close to both their jobs. What? He and Clarke grab lunch together sometimes. It's not a big deal. Don't read into it.

Bellamy spends maybe a little too much time placing the little sign with their order number where the waitress can see it and when he looks up, Clarke is staring at him like he's crazy. He goes for casual when he asks, "Oh yeah?"

She hums in agreement while she sips at her citrus-infused green tea. "Nicky summarized the entire story of  _The Princess Bride_ for us. After, of course, he had told me 'as you wish' many,  _many_  times in the two hours that I was in the house." Her lips tilt up just the slightest at the corners and her eyes go soft the way they always do when she talks about Nick. "It took Octavia by surprise, too, so we figure there could only be one possible way he could come by that information."

Bellamy forces a smirk and meets her gaze. "Listen, the kid is half Blake. He's going to need to know how to handle romantic situations. So I decided to start him with beginner's level love stories. Admit it: you were probably pretty charmed when you put it all together, weren't you?"

He can see that she's fighting an outright grin, but she hides it behind an eye roll. "God, please don't tell me that using lines from movies actually works for you."

"Me?" He scoffs. "I'm master level now, princess. But," he admits, grinning wickedly, "I'm not going to lie and say that I haven't tried it in the past. There was one very memorable summer I spent with a cashier at an ice cream story on the power of, 'Nobody puts baby in the corner' alone."

"God." But she's laughing as the waitress brings their orders over. He thinks she's dropped it, but halfway through her first taco, she pauses and says, "Here's looking at you, kid."

Bellamy can't help but gape at her. "Whaaaaa...?"

She nods as though deciding something. "If I were going to try that, that's the line I'd start with. It's a classic for a reason."

"Depends on the target." She scowls at his word usage but he just shrugs it off with a smirk. "Too young and they might not get it."

"Jesus, Bell," she says, furrowing her brow at him in disapproval. "How young are the girls you've been hitting on?"

"Not me!" he defends himself. "Not this way, not in a long while. I'm just warning  _you_." She nods in concession and goes back to her taco, giving Bellamy the perfect opening to say, "You had me at hello."

She chokes on her bite, then groans as he laughs unrepentantly. "I would walk away from a guy who used that one," she says finally, eyes sparking that this is now a game he's playing along with. "You jump, I jump."

"Ugh,  _Titanic_. I hate that movie." He takes a contemplative bite. "I want all of you, forever, you and me, everyday."

She boos him and it's his turn to stare at her in disbelief. "You can hate  _Titanic_  and I can hate  _The Notebook_."

"I mean, I hate it, too," he hastens to explain. "But does O know this about you? And she hasn't disowned you?" 

Clarke just shrugs and adds more salsa to her next taco. "You should be kissed, and often, and by someone who knows how."

He grins. "I'm game if you are." With a glance at his watch, he swears and grabs the basket with his last taco in it. "I'm going to be late. But Clarke, remember this," he says with a solemn look, "we'll always have Paris." He laughs as she throws her crumpled napkin at him on his way out.

 

* * *

 

 

The game doesn't stop there, though.

One night at Miller and Monty's house, he corners her in the kitchen while she's pouring a glass of wine and murmurs, "What I want to do with my life, what I want to do for a living, is be with your daughter."

She sighs a little. "I love that movie." She turns, glass in hand and says, "I'm just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her."

Her eyes look so earnest when she says it, that he can't help but be sucked in a little, but the moment is broken when Lincoln walks in with his arms full of dirty plates.

 

* * *

 

 

They're sitting together at one of Nicky's little league games and she leans over while one kid takes forever to land a hit and says, "The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return."

He turns to her. "I don't know that one."

She looks forward then with a hitch of her shoulder, " _Moulin Rouge_. It's an alright movie. Come on, Nicky!" she calls as he takes the plate, getting to her feet with the rest of his cheering section - including Bellamy.

 

* * *

 

 

He texts her in the middle of the night after tucking away a case file he'd spent too long staring at, getting nothing done while he thought about her.

**_"Don't say we aren't right for each other. The way I see it, we aren't right for anyone else."_ **

She texts him back almost immediately and he'd be lying if he said his heart wasn't racing. 

**_nice :)_ **

**_"If you love someone... you say it, right then, out loud. Otherwise... the moment just passes you by."_ **

He goes to sleep with a smile on his face.

 

* * *

 

 

They're at Nicky's ninth birthday party and he's cutting the cake while she hands out plates and napkins to all the small, sticky grabby hands around the table.

Leaning into him for the new stack of napkins that she asked him for, she takes a moment so say breathlessly, "Listen to me, mister. You’re my knight in shining armor. Don’t forget it."

He hears a nervous laugh behind him and what sounds like Jasper asking, "What is going on? Did anyone else hear that or am I going crazy?" but Bellamy swears that all his senses narrow down to just Clarke, who is grinning at him, hair a little frizzy from the humidity, with frosting smeared over her cheek.

He carefully sets the knife down and steps up, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her flush to his chest.

"Bellamy?" she questions, voice strained, while her eyes go wide then darken into blue pools.

"Okay, everyone is seeing this, right? Good, good," Jasper mutters to himself.

Bellamy tilts his head to whisper into her ear, "When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible." 

Her eyelashes flutter as he pulls back and she inhales shakily. "What are you saying, Bellamy? No games."

He brushes a strand of blonde hair from the frosting on her face, smiling, and answers, "I love you, Clarke."

She gasps a bit, but it's nothing compared to what goes on around them. Reaching up, she cups his face between her palms. "Bell, I love you, too." She moves one hand to the back of his head and says, "Kiss me."

"As you wish," he can't keep from saying, grinning as she swats his chest. Pressing his lips to hers, he hears Nicky in the background.

"This is  _exactly_  what I wished for!"

 

* * *

 

 

_Since the invention of the kiss, there have been five kisses rated the most passionate, the most pure. This one left them all behind._


	5. birthday wishes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **bellarke week: day 05 ~~~ surprise party au**
> 
> future fic: it's Clarke's birthday, which she hasn't mentioned to anyone. She just wants to spend it with her secret boyfriend. It'd be a pity if something ruined that, wouldn't it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (oh yeah, this is definitely loosely based on [this scene](http://youtu.be/rkhgiqlf5ro))

 

She's lying with her head on Bellamy's bare chest, striving for her breath, when the laugh bubbles out of her.

He unfolds one arm out from behind his head and run his palm down her spine, creating goosebumps with his warm touch against her cooling skin. "What's so funny?" he murmurs, but in a content, sleepy way that tells her he's not overly concerned about her answer.

Sighing happily, she props her chin on her folded hands and looks up at his face. His eyes are closed, although he's tiled his head her way, and dark curls are sticking to his forehead, wet with the sweat they've just worked up.

"It's my birthday," she says, smiling a little as his eyes pop open and he props himself up a bit to stare at her in shock.

* * *

 

"Why didn't you say anything?" He raises his hand from her back and brushes a strand of hair from her damp cheek. "We could've done something special."

She shrugs a bit, moving her hands so her cheek is pressed flat to his skin and she hums. "This is special. This is exactly what I wanted, you and me, away from everyone. Peace and quiet."

He lowers himself back down, toppling her off him as he rolls to his side, then moves down until their faces are parallel. "I still wish you'd told me," he grumbles, then presses a playful kiss to her cheek, her chin, her nose, and finally to her lips, lingering a bit until it's not so playful. "Happy birthday, Clarke."

Biting her lip, she rolls onto her back, yanking at him until he covers her. "It's not over yet and you haven't even given me my present." She raises an eyebrow coyly at him.

Groaning, he sighs out a melodramatic, " _So_ demanding," before giving her a gift that she'll never forget.

* * *

 

The sun is just beginning to set as they head back to camp, hands joined, fingers interlocked.

"Do you think it'll be late enough when we get back that I'll be able to sneak into your hut?" he asks hopefully.

To be honest, the secrecy thing is starting to wear thin. At first, they had both agreed it would be for the best, since the last thing they wanted was to get everyone's hopes up, only to have things fizzle between them.

Now, though, it's more of a nuisance than a necessity, and Clarke feels as though their stuck in a holding pattern she doesn't know how to break.

She smiles up at him as they approach the gate. "Only one way to find out," she says boldly, refusing to drop his hand as they stroll into camp, ignoring his incredulous stare.

And, yeah, they get a few curious glances, but there aren't any familiar faces. In fact, the camp seems suspiciously empty of everyone that either Clarke or Bellamy hold near and dear.

She's a little disappointed when they manage to make it all the way to her hut without causing a scene. 

A fact that Bellamy is well aware of if the way he thumbs her bottom lip when they pause outside her door is any indication. "Don't pout, princess." But he's grinning at her, something new and open and exciting shining in his dark eyes now. "We can always try again tomorrow."

She takes a step into him and wraps her arms around his neck. "Why, Bellamy Blake, are you asking to take me out for a stroll around the park tomorrow? I'll have to check and make sure my chaperone is available." She flutters her lashes at him, delighting in his soft chuckle.

"Oh, my God, you're such a nerd," he says fondly, making her laugh and lightly scratch her nails on the back of his neck in retaliation.

"Says the biggest nerd in camp." 

He snorts at that, then dips his chin and brushes his lips against hers softly once, twice, before he whispers, "Then it's a good thing we have each other."

It makes her heart race, like he does so very often, in a way that's thrilling and flustering and completely terrifying. But she smiles against his lips and hums in agreement as he starts to move them back over her threshold.

"Surprise!" all of her closest friends shout loudly, followed by total, encompassing silence.

Clarke turns in Bellamy's hold and stares at the remaining kids of the 100 and Marcus Kane and her mother - oh, God,  _her mother_.

"Surprise?" she offers weakly, leaning back against Bellamy's chest.

"Be careful what you wish for," he whispers in her ear with a thread of amusement and she drives her elbow back into his gut as the horde descends on them.


	6. with dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **day 06 ~~~ 'you're beautiful' au**
> 
>  
> 
> post-MW: Bellamy wanders across Clarke as she experiments with a new possible curative plant, a strange cactus called peyote.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title comes from "Howl" by Allen Ginsberg
> 
> fyi: this leans more towards angst/actual tone of the show, not humor
> 
> tw: drug use/drug mention
> 
> I honestly don't know how this happened.

Bellamy wakes from the nightmare in a cold sweat, jackknifing upright on his cot and panting. Rubbing his hands over his face and through his damp hair, he struggles to erase the images of Mount Weather, of what he'd done, from his mind.

He rises to his feet as quietly as possible, not wanting to disrupt Monty, Jasper, and Miller, who are all sleeping on their own cots a few feet away.

In camp, everything is quiet, still, and it's a blessing given how chaotic his thoughts are. He nods at one of the guards that's on duty, getting a respectful tilt of the head as a response, before he continues walking the grounds.

Mount Weather may have earned him recurring nightmares, but it also afforded him a certain status in the eyes of the remaining Sky People: honored warrior.

His mouth twists at the irony of it all, how he - a kid destined for nothing more than wiping down floors - had become one of the elite.

And he'd only had to sacrifice a chunk of his soul to earn it.

When his feet lead him to the hut that he knows is Clarke's, he can't help but hesitate. 

* * *

 

Things have been all wrong between them, ever since the escape. Ever since Finn's death, if he's telling the truth. He never knew quite where he was with Clarke at any given moment, but he knows where he wants to be.

Of course, the distance between them now is of his own making. He can understand making the hard call, trying to balance the mission with your humanity, and he doesn't blame Clarke for listening to Lexa, for failing to clear out Tondc before the missile strike.

But he does blame her for not telling Octavia. 

It's the one thing that he honestly doesn't know he can forgive her for, even if Octavia wasn't hurt.

Shoulders drooping, he starts to move forward, when he hears it, a low, pained moan so quiet the wind almost overpowers it. And it's coming from inside Clarke's.

He hears her call out, "No!" and doesn't stop to think twice before he rushes in. He finds her sitting on the floor in the candlelight, staring blankly at the wall across from her, arms crossed in front of herself, as if to ward off an attack. "Leave me alone! Leave me alone!"

"Clarke!" he calls, faltering in his steps when she turns to him with eyes blown black.

"Finn," she says, voice breathless, and something in his gut squeezes hard. Though whether that's because the death is still haunting her or because she called him the other boy's name, he doesn't want to examine it too closely. She turns away with an anguished groan. "Leave me alone. I told you, love is weakness."

It quiets him like nothing else could, that sentence, because it reminds him of what she'd said before sending him away:  _I was being weak._

But he doesn't have long to dwell on that, files it away for later, as she gains her feet, standing unsteadily and walking towards him. "Clarke," he tries again, keeping his voice low and calm, "it's me, Bellamy."

She tilts her head up, as though looking into his face, but he can tell that her glassy stare isn't actually focused on him. "Bellamy?" Her voice throbs with pain and her chin quivers, breaking his heart. "Did I kill you, too?"

"No, Clarke," he answers quickly, stepping forward, close enough to take her shoulders in his hands. He rubs gently at the joints, feeling a little of the tension leak out of her. "I'm alive, we're all alive, because of you."

"Not Finn. Not Wells, or Charlotte, or Atom, or my dad." Her voice breaks then and Bellamy draws her closer, wrapping his arms around her and letting her tears dampen his shirt. "And not the people in Tondc. I could've saved them all, Bellamy, and I let them get killed."

He wants to absolve her, to offer her the complete forgiveness she'd once given him, but he knows it's not that easy. Knows that she'll carry the weight of those lives around with her forever. Like he does.

So he stays silent and holds her.

As her sobs begin to wind down and her breathing quiets, he looks at the floor where she'd been sitting and notices something he hadn't before. "Clarke, did you take something? Eat or drink something unusual?"

She leans back from him with a hum, her eyes still dilated alarmingly. "A new cactus that a friend of Nyko's sent to him, called peyote. Monty says that with the right dosage, we could treat all kinds of things." She puts a hand to her forehead and blinks once, slowly. "I feel like my mind has been ripped open and is spilling all over the room. I keep seeing faces - all the faces of the people who are dead because of me."

He watches as she holds her hands out from her sides, tilting her head back and letting her eyelids drop. "My dad and I watched this movie from the archives once and I feel like her right now. Pig's blood, you know. It's warm and syrupy and stick and red and flowing all over her, all over her pretty dress and her crown, in her hair. I can feel it flowing over me, but I'm not like her. She killed them because they did that to her, but it's happening to me because I killed them."

The reference means nothing to him, it's nonsense, and Bellamy begins to get alarmed. "Clarke, look at me. Look at me," he orders, stepping forward to take her arms and lower them back to her sides, which gets her to at least open her eyes, even if she can't see him. "Did Nyko warn you about any side effects?"

She collapses into a heap on the floor, lying on her side. He lowers himself to kneel next to her, straining to hear her whisper. "Clarke, I need you to tell me. Talk louder," he pleads.

"Psy-cho-tro-pic," she enunciates, then rolls over to her back. "And God made Eve from Adam's rib and Eve was weak." She mutters to herself quietly for a long moment, finishing audibly with a dramatic sigh, "And the curse was blood. I was weak, love is weakness, and I was weak, like Eve, and now the curse of blood is here." 

 _Psychotropic_ , Bellamy thinks with some relief. At least Clarke isn't going crazy; she's just high. Then her last words hit him and he can't keep the slightest smile from crossing his lips. "Sorry to break it to you, Clarke, but I'm pretty sure that particular curse of blood refers to menstruation." When she looks back at him, scandalized, he chuckles. "I have a sister that I had to keep hidden; yes, I know all about that stuff."

She scoots herself over to him, pressing the top of her head into his gut until he's seated properly, then lays her head in his lap. "You love her so much, don't you?" she says quietly. "That why you're so mad at me, why you hate me now, because I didn't protect her for you."

He raises a tentative hand before brushing back the hair from her face. "I couldn't hate you." In fact, with her soft and vulnerable like this, it's hard to even draw on the anger he's felt since finding out the truth.

"You should." She nods her head against him. "I'd do it again. I know I would: again and again and again, if it meant saving you and the others."

"I know you would, because you have the courage to make the tough calls, to do what has to be done. But more importantly," he says, running his fingers through her blonde waves, "you still have enough humanity, enough heart, that you choose knowing you'll carry those decisions with you. It means more because of the toll it takes on you. And that's not weakness, Clarke; that's strength."

She's staring up at him and he's relieved to see that the inky blackness of her pupils has receded enough that he can see a thin ring of blue iris. "You're beautiful, Bellamy. Did you know that?" She smiles dreamily. "Inside and out. All that love is shining through your skin like beams of moonlight."

He smirks down at her to hide the flush he can feel rising in his face. "Yeah, I think that's the peyote talking."

Clarke shakes her head in a very deliberate, exaggerated way. "No," she insists, reaching a hand up, but stopping short of cupping his cheek. "I think it all the time, even if I don't say it. Even when I hated you, I thought you were one of the most beautiful things I'd ever seen."

"Yeah, well." He squirms beneath her gaze, even knowing she probably won't remember this tomorrow. "Likewise," he finally mutters, filing away the image of the contented smile that crosses her face at his confession.

She turns back over to her side, head still resting against his thigh, and grows quiet. Bellamy takes this as his cue to leave, but when he tries to extract his leg, she whines, "No, stay. Don't make me walk back alone."

Shaking his head at her non sequitur, he quiets her with a soft, "Shhhh," before laying down beside her.

* * *

 

When he's awakened by the morning light, he's curled around her, pressed flush to her back, with her hair all over his face.

Before he's even alert enough to process this information, she turns in his arms. Instead of the wariness he's expecting, her gaze is light, as if her soul had been cleansed of some terrible burden.

He can't help feeling lighter himself and he smiles gently at her.

She returns the gesture and burrows into his side.

He welcomes her with a kiss on the top of her head as they both settle back into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the movie Clarke references is obviously _Carrie_. Any of you who follow me on Tumblr probably know that I'm a big musical nerd and although _Carrie: the Musical_ is pretty meh in general, there is one great song that was based on the speech that Clarke paraphrases here, appropriately named "And Eve Was Weak".
> 
> I highly recommend listening to that song if you're at all familiar with the context of that scene, because it's amazing. (Oh, and if you can, listen to the Betty Buckley version, although Marin Mazzie's is pretty good, too.)


	7. unexpected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **bellarke week: day 07 ~~~ Clarke is pregnant au**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Bellamy meets the woman his friends have been talking about for weeks --- their surrogate, Clarke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is THE PROMPT that convinced me to participate, because I wanted to write this so bad, so I hope you enjoy :)
> 
> (also I had so little time to write this in order to get it up today that I barely took a pass at it for editing, so be forgiving)

It starts when Bellamy's out to dinner with a group of his friends and Monty can't keep the smile off his face.

"Dude, what's up with you? You're, like, glowing. Wait," Jasper says with an irreverent grin, "are you pregnant?" The joke gets a chuckle out of Harper and Fox, but it just makes Maya elbow her boyfriend in the side.

Only Bellamy notices when Monty and Miller exchange a nervous glance. "Actually I don't think you're that far off, Jas." Bellamy raises his eyebrows at his friends. "Something you want to share with the group, boys?"

Miller gives Monty a nod, the corners of his mouth twitching up, and Monty turns to the table and announces, "We found the perfect surrogate and we're going to have a baby. We didn't want to announce it until we knew for sure that the procedure worked but we got the call this afternoon. She's pregnant."

Jasper is the first one to offer the couple congratulatory hugs, followed closely by the girls. 

Bellamy offers his hand to Miller and claps him on the shoulder. "Congrats, man. I know you guys have been looking for the right surrogate for a while."

Miller smiles serenely, even though his eyes shine with excitement. "She's perfect, Bell. Just wait until you meet her. As soon as Monty and I read her profile, we knew she was it. You guys are gonna love her."

 

* * *

  

Bellamy does not, as it turns out, love her. (At least not at first.)

The night that Monty and Miller are introducing her to the group, Bellamy shows up early and hesitates when the hostess points him to a mostly empty table.

Empty, of course, but for the reserved-looking blonde whose icy blue eyes look like they could cut steel. 

Shaking off the awkwardness of not having anyone here as a buffer, Bellamy thanks the hostess and walks up to the table. "Hi, I'm Bellamy. You must be-"

"Not interested," she says with a withering glance. "I'm just waiting for friends."

He furrows his brow at her overt aggression. "Yeah, I know, and-"

"And nothing. Now... move along." She shoos him away with a gesture.

His temper spikes at her condescending manner. "Listen here, princess," he says with derision and she snaps her gaze towards him, hair not daring to budge out of its tightly wound coil at the back of her head.

"Princess?  _Princess_?! You have some nerve, Mr. Entitlement-"

"Bellamy! Clarke!" He hears Monty call. "Good, you guys are getting to know each other!"

They each turn towards the couple they're here to meet, Monty grinning as if to ease the tension and Miller just looking exasperated.

Bellamy rolls his shoulders and looks back to see the surrogate - Clarke - turn to him in surprise. "Oh," she says quietly, then more meaningfully, " _Ohhhh_." Where he expects her to turn sheepish or apologetic, she shrugs instead and stands to accept Monty's hug while Miller asks about her health in that serious tone of his.

After she's assured both of the expectant fathers that she's fine, no she hasn't had morning sickness yet, she doesn't feel different at all, the three of them turn back to him.

"Clarke Griffin, Bellamy Blake. Bellamy was my roommate in college," Miller explains to her. "And he's one of my closest friends."

She meets his gaze without a hint of embarrassment about her mistake earlier, which Bellamy finds both intriguing and irritating.

As dinner progresses, those two words only gain meaning. Jasper and Maya are the only other friends meeting them for dinner and both are quick to warm to Clarke, leaving Bellamy the odd man out.

"So Clarke," Maya says as the appetizers get served, "tell us a little about yourself. These two have been uncharacteristically mum about you - well, uncharacteristic for Monty, anyway."

Clarke seems surprised as she takes a drink of her water, eyes widening. "Um, let's see." She pauses to lick a drop of water off her lip and Bellamy tries not to follow the motion with his eyes - and fails. "I'm an artist, I draw and paint. I took a lot of biology and anatomy classes, so while I'm between shows, I do commission work illustrating medical texts."

"What made you want to carry someone else's baby around?" Jasper asks, then sees the horrified expression on both Monty and Maya's faces. "What? I can't ask that?"

Clarke is quick to jump in before anyone else can. "No, no, it's okay. I don't mind. Honestly, my biggest incentive is the money. I have some... personal debts from the last few years and while i can cover the day-to-day living expenses with my artwork and the commissions, it barely puts a dent in the loans." She furrows her brow for a minute then sighs, rolling her shoulders as if she's decided something on the spot. "And, honestly, my dream is to have my own art studio and I can't get a business loan until the other stuff is cleared up."

The entire table is quiet for a moment, but Bellamy watches Clarke in fascinated suspicion. Finally, a vague memory surfaces and he's speaking before he thinks it all the way through. "Griffin. Any relation to Jake Griffin?"

Her face, which he'd thought was reserved already, closes off further, eyes shuttering, mouth going tight, as she turns that flinty gaze on him. "Why?"

"Just asking," Bellamy says, raising a defensive hand. "I'm a detective. I remember that case - it never got solved and I heard his daughter had hired some kind of fancy investigator to look into it privately. That's you, right?"

Clarke looks haunted as her gaze shoots across the table, before she closes her eyes with a sigh. "Yes."

"P.I. couldn't crack it either, huh?" he asks, trying not to sound too smug about it. Private investigators were one shaky step up from bounty hunters on the list of things that he hated most. It always gave Bellamy a sick sense of satisfaction to know that they couldn't solve a case either.

Clarke doesn't answer the question, though, just glares at him for a long moment before Miller and Monty trip over themselves to change the subject.

 

* * *

  

Bellamy wishes he could say their second meeting went better, but well... he tries not to lie to anyone, least of all himself.

Jasper and Maya are cooking out one Saturday and invite the entire gang over. Bellamy corners Miller in the kitchen when the latter comes in for a fresh beer. "I'm just saying, man, did that agency that you found Clarke through even do a background check? Because there are some interesting things that came up when I did one myself."

"Really?" an icy voice asks from behind him and Miller winces in sympathy. Bellamy turns to find Clarke standing there, hand on her hip, staring daggers at him. "Please continue, Bellamy. What kind of alarming things did you find in your totally legal and justified background check?"

"I'm going to..." Miller says, pointing at the door, but making a point to stop and squeeze Clarke's shoulder and murmur something in her ear. Her eyes soften a bit as she watches him walk away, but that vulnerability is gone when she turns back to Bellamy.

"So, Detective Blake. Let's hear it."

"Fine, how about the fact that, in a city with a very low crime rate, you were linked to two different homicides within two years? How about the arrest for destruction of private property last year? You weren't charged for it, but it's still pretty suspicious. Or the fact that you came from a pretty privileged life, but now you need to rent out your womb to pay off a lousy P.I.? Things just aren't adding up with you, princess, and I feel it's my duty to warn my friends about the person who is carrying their child."

If looks could kill, Bellamy would be dead, buried, resurrected, and killed again by the glare Clarke is shooting him. "There are things I can't talk about," is her only reply, which he answers in turn with a scoff.

"Things you don't want to talk about, more like."

She looks away and for a moment, he swears he sees a sheen of tears over her eyes. But then she shifts and it's gone. That doesn't erase the uneasiness in his gut though.

"You're right," she admits quietly, defiance in her tone and every rigid line of her body. "You're right - I don't want to talk about it, about how my father was murdered because he knew too much, about how my mother was behind it, about how my childhood friend was protecting me from the truth and got killed for his trouble. Or how, after the P.I. discovered all of this, I had to use my entire trust fund to pay him off so he'd keep silent. About how I'm estranged from my mother, now that I know what she's capable of and have been struggling to get by. You're right, Bellamy, I didn't want to talk about any of that. And yet here I am, in a relative stranger's kitchen, talking about it to another stranger. So I hope that appeases you, Detective."

Bellamy stares at her, feeling like a heel, as she stares him down, daring him to say something. Maybe for that very reason, he can't help adding, "Destruction of public property?"

She barks out a bitter laugh, running a hand down her face. "God, you're something else. Okay." She meets his gaze and he's surprised that after all of this - after how they met and the tale she just told - that  _now_ is when he sees a tinge of embarrassment in her eyes. "Last year, I was dating this guy pretty seriously, only to find out that he'd been dating someone else - and that I was the other woman. His other girlfriend and I teamed up and went after his prized vintage sports car - the one she'd rebuilt for him for herself. He dropped the charges and we both dropped him."

Rubbing a hand over his neck, he gives her a sheepish grimace and shrugs. "Man, you've had a shitty few years, huh?" It makes her laugh a little and at least she's not glaring at him now. He takes a step forward, trying not to fidget as she watches him coolly. "Clarke, listen, I, uh, I'm-"

"A protective son of a bitch with no sense of personal privacy?" she offers with a smirk. "Yeah, I've figured that out."

He chuckles, leaning on the counter in front of her. "I guess I had that coming. I meant to say that I'm, well, I'm sorry. But, yeah, you're right, I am protective and Miller's like a brother to me. I just wanted to be sure, if you're going to be in his life, that everything was on the up-and-up."

"Do you always try to excuse your behavior when you apologize?" But she's smiling at him, just a little, before she lets it drop and wets her lips with her tongue. "Bellamy, I'd appreciate it if that story stayed between us. No trying to re-open the case or anything."

"Of course." Then he tilts his bottle her way. "You want me to grab you one?" She presses a protective hand to her stomach and says his name in a warning tone, making him grin a little. "Okay, that was one last test. Congrats, you passed. I'll get you a water."

 

* * *

  

It's easier after that and Bellamy begins to appreciate her presence whenever the group gets together. He's no longer the lone man out with three couples.

Instead, now he and Clarke team up whenever one of the pairs starts getting too sappy with each other, the two of them trading jokes or making faces at each other. 

He no longer has to opt out of things like game night, because Clarke will always offer to be his partner. 

On the rare occasion that she brings her friend Raven along, who is understandably curious about the people her friend is carrying a baby for, Bellamy learns to bring along his buddy Wick from City Engineering. 

Even he is self-aware enough to know that only half of it has to do with being a friend to Wick; the other half is very clearly interested in having Clarke's attention focused solely on him.

It's one of these such nights that Clarke begins her first bouts of "morning" sickness, pushing past him while he tells her about his sister's new boyfriend and bolting for the bathroom in Monty and Miller's apartment.

They both stand as if to follow her, but Bellamy waves them back, ignoring everyone's stares as he makes his way down the hallway to knock quietly on the door. "Clarke? I'm coming in."

"Noooo," she moans as he opens the door, but that's interrupted as well by her retching. He moves behind her, gathering her hair in one hand and rubbing between her shoulder blades with the other until she's done.

She sits quietly for a moment after flushing and then releases a sigh. "It's been so easy to forget that I'm actually pregnant, but I guess that's about to get a whole lot harder now."

He nods, because honestly it's been hard for him to remember as well. For as much time as he spends with her, they haven't really discussed anything to do with the pregnancy, but now it seems unavoidable. "You've gone to the doctor and everything, right? Taking prenatal vitamins?"

Clarke gives him a wry look. "Have you met the two fathers? Of course I'm doing all of that. In fact," she says with an excited smile, "my nine week is coming up and we might be able to hear the heartbeat."

Bellamy smiles back at her, dropping his hand to her stomach. "Whoa. Nine weeks already?" When he looks up from his hand and sees her looking at him, he starts to pull back with an apology. But she catches him and presses his palm flat against her shirt and his heart begins to race as they watch each other.

It occurs to him for the first time that he wants to be there, in the room, holding her hand when she hears the sound of this new life.

It also occurs to him for the first time that he may be in big trouble here.

* * *

 

The next Friday, Bellamy decides to take the long way back to his desk and, oh look, there's Miller, so he may as well go talk to him. "Hey, man." He leans up against Miller's desk casually, although he can't quite keep his fingers from tapping anxiously on the desktop. "So, uh, are you guys doing dinner or anything tonight? If not, I'm available."

Miller shoots him a knowing glance then turns back to the report he's typing up. "Tonight? Sorry, Bellamy, Monty's got these tickets to some avant-garde music act that has paint and strobing lights and who the hell knows what else. It's all he's been talking about for weeks, so I promised I'd go with him."

"That's alright," Bellamy says, nodding. "So it's just you two? No one else is going, like Jasper or Fox or-"

"Clarke?" Miller finishes with a smirk, giving up on the computer and turning to face Bellamy fully. "You are about as subtle as a jackhammer, my friend. No, Clarke isn't coming with. Maybe you'd like her number? And you could call and see if she wants to grab dinner? Just the two of you?" Miller's voice is teasing, but he's already busy scribbling something down on a scrap of paper, which he hands to Bellamy.

As Bellamy reaches for it, though, Miller doesn't let go and his face takes on a serious cast. "Make sure you're serious about this, Bell, because Clarke is going to be in our lives at least another 8 months and probably well after that. Hell, it's all I can do to keep Monty from trying to get her to permanently move in with us."

 _Serious_. It's not a word that Bellamy has used often in reference to women, but it also wasn't often that he met someone he connected with like he did Clarke. He nods at Miller solemnly. "I'm not gonna cause any problems for you guys, I promise."

But it still takes him the rest of the morning to work up the courage to call and invite her to dinner at his house that night.

Forgetting, of course, that it's his weekend to cook for Octavia.

That night, his sister comes into the kitchen like a hurricane, opening cabinets, taking the lid off the pan, checking the oven, and generally causing a disturbance in the environment. "Will you go sit down?" he bites out at her. "I can't do anything with you flapping around in here."

She scowls at him, but rounds the bar separating the kitchen from the dining room and takes a seat. "What's up your ass? And why do you have Mom's good dishes out? Are you expecting someone else?"

Furrowing his brow, he stares intently at the recipe in front of him, clearing his throat. "Yeah, someone's joining us."

"Someone? Like a girl someone? Oh, my God, Bellamy! Are you actually introducing me to a girlfriend?!"

"What?! No! Clarke's just a friend - I met her through the guys. She's, you know, their surrogate." He looks up to find her watching him through narrowed eyes. "What?" he asks again, defensively this time.

"No," she says at length. "I'm not buying it." And it's then that the doorbell rings, because of course it is, and Octavia springs up with a shit-eating grin. "I'll get it!"

"Be nice!" he yells, wincing as she whips the door open with an over-the-top, "You must be Clarke! Bellamy's told me  _sooooo_  much about you!"

But, honestly, it doesn't go as bad as he may have feared. It takes Clarke a few minutes to get her bearing and to relax a bit around Octavia, but by the time they're finishing up Bellamy's first attempt at spaghetti bolognese (Clarke had told him when he'd called that she'd been craving Italian), the two women are friendly.

Clarke insists that she can't stay for dessert, so Bellamy walks her out, following her onto the small stoop of his house and closing the door behind them. "Thanks for coming," he says with a small smile, admiring the shine of her hair in the street light, the way her eyelashes cast shadows over her cheeks.

"Thanks for inviting me. I never would've guessed that you could cook like that and you might come to regret giving me that knowledge." She returns his smile and rubs one bare arm against the chill, but she still lingers there with him. "It was nice to meet your sister; I didn't know if you'd invited anyone else and I forgot to ask. But I'm glad she was able to make it."

"Yeah," he answers as a reflex, though something about that sentiment causes unease to spread in his stomach. "Why are you glad?"

She bites her lip a little and glances away before turning back to him. "Bellamy, I'm not really in a position to start something. I mean, I'm caring someone else's child, for one, but add in the fact that their your friends and it would just..." She sighs and shakes her head. "It would be a mistake. So I'm glad that your sister was here, because I was worried that this was a date. And that would be an unnecessary complication."

Bellamy rocks back on his heels, sucker punched, and struggles to react in a way that won't ruin everything. The hurt is bubbling up, making him want to lash out, like he might've in his younger days, but he subdues it with a slow inhale. "Wow." When she starts to apologize, he waves her off. "No, it's better to know how you feel. And it sucks." He works up a smirk, but it feels all wrong on his face. "But I'll get over it. I thought..." He shakes his head and picks up one of her hands in his, studying the contrast of his olive skin against her fair as he rubs his thumb over her knuckles. "I really thought that we had some kind of connection or chemistry or something like that." He steps back with a shrug, intending to drop her hand.

But she tightens her grip. "We do, Bellamy. I like you, I like you a lot, but... God, this is awful timing, you know?"

A surge of hope flows through him and he links their free hands, leaning into her personal space. "Is it really, though? I mean, yeah, you're going through this huge, life-changing event, but wouldn't it be better to have a partner to go through it with?"

She closes her eyes and leans her forehead against his shoulder, and he takes a chance and presses his cheek to her hair, the cool strands soft against his face. "Bellamy," she murmurs. "This could get so confusing. It's your friends' child inside of me; this isn't a ready-made family for you to take care of." When he starts to speak again, she pulls back and presses a finger to his lips. "No, wait, I know that you think you understand that. But think about it - think about it hard. And if you do, then, well, maybe I'll think about this."

She replaces her fingertip with her own lips, giving him a chaste, gentle kiss that leaves his chest aching, before she walks away.

* * *

They decide to take it slowly and Bellamy is more than willing to let Clarke set the timetable. He's grateful to have the clock running at all.

He is a little less grateful, however, when she insists that they have an open and honest conversation with Monty and Miller before they can move further.

And it's not because he doesn't think they have a right to know; it's because he knows they'll take the opportunity to bust his balls.

And they don't disappoint.

Miller gives him a stern glare, while Monty strokes his chin ponderously and contemplates the situation. "I don't know about this, Nathan," Monty says. "I think we need to hear his intentions towards Clarke, don't you?"

"Absolutely," Miller answers without hesitation, dark eyes shining with glee. "And his prospects. We should probably get a background check, to be on the safe side."

"Ha ha," Bellamy deadpans, then looks at Clarke, who is suppressing a smile. "Now do you understand?"

She just laughs at him and rests her head against his arm.

* * *

 

The thing is, Clarke wasn't wrong about it being confusing, especially when she starts showing.

They haven't moved past dinner dates and semi-innocent kisses when he notices it the first time and his hand is drawn to the small bump beneath her dress. "Wow," is all he can manage and she covers his hand with her own.

"I know, it's like it just popped out overnight." She shrugs a bit and starts telling him about her newest commission.

But he can't help but glancing at her stomach every now and then.

And he can't help imagining a little girl with his dark curls and her blue eyes or a little boy with her blonde hair and his freckles. _  
_

* * *

Her morning sickness hangs on into month five, although the severity has lessened, and Bellamy feels like an old pro as he holds her hair back one night as their on their way out to dinner.

Once she's finished, she curls around the toilet on the cold tile and moans. "I'm sorry for ruining our night out."

He settles down on the floor beside her, gently helping her sit up to lean against him, while he wraps an arm around her waist. "Don't worry about it. I'm more worried about you. Did the doctor say it was normal for you to still be this sick?"

She hums against him, tired like she always is after throwing up. "She said it's not unheard of, but since it's not quite as severe anymore and I'm not dehydrated, I should be okay. I just wish it would stop."

He palms her ever-growing bump, rubbing gently. "Hear that, baby? Why don't you give your mom a break, hmmm?" It isn't until she sits upright that he realizes his mistake. "Clarke..."

She's visibly upset now, rising to her feet in an unsteady motion and shaking off his hands when he tries to help. "I knew it. I knew this would be a problem."

He follows her out the door and into her bedroom. "I'm sorry, Clarke. It just slipped out."

She turns to him, protective hands on her stomach. "This is not our child, Bellamy. You are not its father, and I am not its mother."

"I know, Clarke. You know I know that. It's just... It's  _hard_ sometimes, you know, because I look at us and I think about this baby and it feels like it's," he pauses, struggles with his thoughts. "It feels like it's right."

"You don't think it's hard for me?" she asks, voice raising. "This child is living  _inside_ of me, depending on me for everything, and yes, sometimes it's hard to remember that it's not mine. But there's a line, Bellamy. There's a line and I can't--- I can't be with you if you can't help me stay on the right side of that line. Because it is hard for me, more than you'll ever know." She blinks back the tears that he can see pooling and he's surprised to find the sting of them behind his own eyes as well.

"Clarke." His voice is thick, catching around the lump in his throat. "Don't- I can't- I want to help you, I do. I want to be there for you throughout this, past this, to be beside you. But I'm not perfect. Don't shut me out because of this." He stares at her, heartbroken, as she loses her fight against the tears and they begin to roll down her face. "I need you."

"Bellamy." She turns away and his chest constricts, squeezing the breath out him. But she doesn't say another word; instead she climbs onto the bed and lies down on her side, facing away from the door, shoulders shaking as she silently cries.

Chastened, he starts to walk out until she calls his name and then says the one thing he wasn't expecting.

"Stay."

He lets out a shaky breath and toes off his shoes, climbing in behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist, pressing his face to her hair.

* * *

Something shifts between them from that point forward, something monumental.

Instead of social dinners and game nights and art exhibits, they begin spending their time holed up together, talking about everything and anything, trading soft kisses and touches, exploring an emotional intimacy the likes of which Bellamy has never known.

It's as if that night blew away all the superficialities that each of them had built over time and all that's left is just Bellamy and Clarke, in their rawest forms.

There's nothing that the two of them won't discuss - including any confusing feelings about the baby that Clarke carries.

When she feels the baby moves for the first time, just little flutters, he's there to hold her while she explains the sensation.

When she comes home from an ultrasound with Monty and Miller, the three of them gushing about an experience Bellamy's been excluded from, she sifts her fingers through his hair and rubs his shoulders, gentling his envy.

So it's as natural as breathing for him when he looks at her one night as she's sitting on the couch -feet tucked under him for warmth, paint-stained shirt hanging off one shoulder, round stomach stretching the grey cotton enough that a sliver of skin is showing at the bottom - and says, "I love you."

She smiles at him, not surprised because she already knows, in the way she knows everything about him now, even the unspoken parts, and says, "I love you."

* * *

 

Miller tells Bellamy one day that he and Monty are going to find out the gender of the baby at the next ultrasound, after waffling over the decision for months. 

When Bellamy comes home, Clarke is waiting to give him the same news. They're both a little disappointed, but after seven months, they're clearer about where the line rests.

That night in his bed, Clarke rubs her stomach with lotion while Bellamy reads a book on Roman warfare, but he looks up when she says, "I wish I could still be surprised even if they found out."

He nods. "Me too. But you know Monty will want to tell everyone."

She sighs and pats her belly. "Oh, well. Next time will be our call."

His breath catches for a moment, before a grin breaks across his face. "Next time," he agrees gruffly.

* * *

 

The day that changes their lives forever begins like any other. Bellamy rolls out of bed seconds after his alarm sounds and immediately moves over to Clarke's side to help her stand up and make her way to the bathroom. 

He grabs her clothes from his dresser as she calls out what she wants to wear and sets them where she can easily reach them, moving past her towards the shower as she's coming out, both of them stopping to exchange a slow, heated kiss, the most action she's been up to for a few weeks.

It isn't until he's tying his tie that the now-standard anxiety kicks in. "Are you going to be okay alone?" he asks, as he has every morning since she hit the 35th week mark. She's coming up on the end of week 39 now and the pit in his stomach gets wider with every passing day. "Do I need to call Monty to come sit with you?"

In retrospect, he should've known then, when she hesitated before answering, but he takes her at her word and leaves for work after giving her one more kiss (or two; three at the very most).

It's mid-afternoon when Miller gets the call. And yeah, finding out that your girlfriend is in labor from your friend, who happens to be the baby's father, is not the most conventional route, but Bellamy's always been a nonconformist. 

For once, he's glad of the relatively small pond that they live in, because there's no need for him to explain why he needs to leave when Miller's having a baby. Their captain wishes them both luck and sends them on their way.

There's an awkward moment when they arrive at the hospital and the nurse tells them only two people can be in there with Clarke and one is already back there. 

Even though he's itching to go back and check on Clarke, Bellamy waves Miller on, with a pat on the back. 

It's not quite an hour later, though, that Monty comes out, to "tag Bellamy in" and that sets the precedent for how Clarke's labor goes, the three of them alternating so they can all be there for her.

After one particularly nasty contraction, Clarke is panting and glares at Bellamy when he tries to wipe her forehead.

"Hey," he says, holding his hands up, "I might be the only guy in this hospital's history that can tell his pregnant girlfriend that it is  _not_ my fault that you're like this."

Monty, who showed up twenty minutes ago to relieve Miller, snorts. "I wouldn't go that far. I think we've all seen enough episodes of Maury."

It takes Clarke's mind off the pain and she chuckles a little tiredly. "Bellamy Blake, you are  _not_ the father," she intones and all three of them break into hysterics, only to be interrupted by a bemused nurse.

"Wow, and this is _before_ I offer the drugs," she says, setting the three occupants of the room off again, until Clarke breaks off with a sharp inhale as another contraction starts.

"They're getting closer." Monty looks shaken now, as he takes Clarke's hand in his own.

"Anxious or nervous?" Bellamy asks, glancing at his friend over the rise of Clarke's abdomen.

Monty grins a bit and just says, "Yes."

The remainder of his time in the delivery room passes in a similar fashion and when his time is up, Bellamy presses a lingering kiss to Clarke's head and murmurs, "I love you."

She cups his cheek in her palm and says, "I love you, too, Bell," and it's all he can do to let go of her hand and walk out.

* * *

 

Daisy Miller-Green is born at 11:36 PM that night with a sound that Miller will swear until his dying day is a laugh. 

Although Bellamy wanted to be in there, he's glad that she comes into the world with both of her fathers present. 

Bellamy knows he'll have his time - his and Clarke's, together - so it's easy to take a backseat now.

After he gets the okay to go in to Clarke's room, he creeps in to find her sleeping peacefully and settles down in the visitor's chair, taking her hand in his.

* * *

When Clarke and Daisy are both released, Bellamy and Clarke follow the new parents to their home, not ready to separate from the little girl just yet.

Miller carries Daisy in, moving so gingerly that one might think he was carrying explosives instead of a small human, and Bellamy can't help but exchange an amused glance with Clarke.

They settle down in the living room, Monty taking the baby and settling her into Clarke's arms, while Bellamy wraps an arm around Clarke's back. "She looks so much like you, Miller," Bellamy says, running a finger down Daisy's arm and over her little hand.

"Yeah, but I think she'll have my eyes," Monty jokes, sitting on the arm of Miller's chair. "Actually, guys, we're glad that you wanted to come over because there's something Nate and I wanted to discuss with you."

Bellamy and Clarke both look up from the baby at her parents. "What's up?" Clarke asks, readjusting her grip a bit.

"Even though neither of us are particularly religious and we don't even belong to a church, we still want you guys to be Daisy's godparents, in a way. We'd like to make it that if anything were to happen to both of us, you'd become her legal guardians."

Bellamy doesn't even hesitate. "Yes," he answers, followed closely by Clarke.

"Of course we will. That's such a sweet gesture." Clarke is blinking back tears, then she smiles. "Sorry, I guess I'm still riding the hormone high."

"Clarke." Monty looks close to tears now himself. "What you've done for us, we can never repay that, there's no monetary value that could come close. We just want you to know that you'll always have a place in Daisy's life, as long as you want it."

"You guys!" She cries harder then, handing the baby carefully over to Bellamy before she stands and wraps her arms around Monty and Miller. 

* * *

 

Saying goodbye to Daisy is a bittersweet moment. Bellamy and Clarke linger as long as possible, and Monty and Miller seem to understand that they're having trouble with it.

But they finally can't put it off anymore and they each take a moment to hold the baby, touch her soft cheek and her little pouty lips, before kissing her forehead and passing her back to her fathers.

On the drive back to Bellamy's house, they're both quiet, except for the occasional ragged burst of breath past Clarke's lips. 

Bellamy reaches over and twines their fingers together, pulling her hand to his mouth to kiss her knuckles.

He doesn't say that soon enough they'll have one of their own, one to keep and care for themselves.

He doesn't have to.

And it wouldn't make it any easier now anyway.

At home, they undress and get into bed, Clarke burrowing in close to him, closer than she's been able to get in months, head tucked under his chin, and he strokes his hand up and down her back.

"I miss her already," she whispers brokenly and Bellamy's heart clenches.

"Me too."

After a few minutes, she stirs against him a little. "You were right, you know, all those months ago."

"Always nice to hear," he quips, feeling her smile a little against his chest. "What about?"

"It was better to have a partner going through all of that. So thank you, Bellamy, for being my partner."

He tucks his chin in as she pulls back. Brushing a few strands of hair from her face, he looks into her eyes and promises, "Always."

"Always," she echoes, then presses her lips to his to seal their vow.


	8. a prehistoric ritual where everybody promises fidelity forever (which is maybe the most horrifying word i ever heard of)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **day 08: wedding au**
> 
>  
> 
> Clarke hates weddings, so of course she converts her family home into the premiere locale for weddings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the final fill for Bellarke fic week, which has been _sooo_ fun.
> 
> thank you all for all the kudos, comments, likes, & reblogs!
> 
> (title for this one is from "(Not) Getting Married Today" from Stephen Sondheim's _Company_ )

_"Discover the romantic elegance of the Griffin House, the perfect venue for your special day. The beautiful manicured gardens are ideal for photography year-round and our historic buildings provide wonderful backdrops to capture the magic of this important occasion._

_"The Griffin House offers a wide variety of indoor venue options, ranging from the first floor of the mansion to the Carriage House. If an outdoor wedding is your dream, the grounds contain three different gazebos, each with their own unique surrounding landscaping. Indoor or out, the entire wedding party will be provided appropriate accommodations to prepare the day of the event._

_"Our staff is proudly equipped to offer catering, photography, cocktails, flowers, cakes, hair and makeup, and all the planning required. Ask your event manager about arranging a dress-and-tux fashion show with one of seven local wedding boutiques._

_"Schedule an appointment at the Griffin House and let us give you the magical day that you deserve and will remember forever."_

* * *

The corners of Clarke's mouth curl up in a satisfied smile as she hears the excited feminine voice finish reciting the brochure that Clarke had written herself. 

A snort - definitely male - follows as the prospective clients walk up the path to the main house. "Of course they make it sound great," his low voice says, heavy with skepticism. "That's how they lure unsuspecting city dwellers like us all the way out here."

She hears a soft slap followed by the woman's voice saying, "Bell, don't be like that. Look at the grounds in front! They're already even more gorgeous than they looked on the website." Clarke makes a mental note to ask Raven for some updated pictures to post online. "And this house! Have you ever seen anything more beautiful? Can you imagine growing up in a place like this?"

The man - Bell, she presumes - is quiet for a moment, then reluctantly, "It is nice. I bet it was like living in a damn museum, though." 

Clarke quirks up an eyebrow, toasting him with her coffee cup to give him that point, even though he can't see her from where she's seated on the second story balcony. Luckily for her, since she's sitting there, barely awake, in nothing but her thin cotton robe and nightshirt, hidden only by the overflowing window boxes that Monty had insisted on installing on all balconies.

Just as she hears the doorbell start to chime throughout the first floor, the door behinds her opens and Raven loudly exclaims, " _There_ you are! C'mon, Griffin, get your ass in gear. You promised to work out with me this morning."

Clarke hisses her name and points over the side of the balcony, making Raven wince then lean over. "Hey, there, guys! Hope you have a good appointment. Who were you meeting today?"

"Oh, um." The woman of the party is trying to hold back a laugh, but Clarke can still hear it in her voice. "We're meeting Lexa."

Raven grins a little and Clarke hopes that it only looks maniacal to her. "Well then, you'll be in great hands," she promises as they both hear the front door open and Lexa begin to welcome the clients. Raven shrugs with a smirk and moves back into Clarke's quarters, leaving Clarke to reluctantly follow.

As she rises to her feet, she glances over the edge of the balcony, finding Lexa standing with the couple and another man - another man who is clearly not listening to what Lexa is saying and is instead staring up at Clarke. He's golden skinned and dark haired and exuding confidence from every pore and Clarke's breath catches a bit.

But, no, she can't allow that, so she inhales with deliberate slowness and smiles coolly at him.

If his answering smirk tugs at something within her, well... It's better to pretend it doesn't.

* * *

That night, they're sitting down to a staff dinner - which is really just Anya's excuse to use them all as guinea pigs for new recipes - to discuss the day's business.

Clarke breezes in late and finds all her employees - her friends - already eating. "Sorry," she says when Anya opens her mouth to scold her. "I got tied up with the father of Saturday's bride, discussing payment options."

Wells huffs out a breath, since that's his event. "I tried to tell him that if he was on a budget, he should attend all of his daughter's planning sessions, but he said he trusted her to make the right choices." He shakes his head at the man's naivete. "I think she chose the most expensive option for every single facet of that entire wedding."

"Her father is willing to pay for it," Clarke says with a shrug. "He just needs some time to do so."

"That is not going to be the case with the new event I booked today," Lexa says, rolling her eyes. "The bride's brother is financing the majority of the wedding and he is determined to control as much of it as she'll let him."

Interest rears its head within Clarke, but she struggles to stay nonchalant. "The group this morning? Her  _brother_ is paying?"

Lexa nods and wrinkles her nose at the appetizer she's just taken a bite of, looking at Anya with a definitive, "No." Then she turns back to Clarke. "They didn't explain the situation, but yes. I gave him your number to discuss the money part, so you should be expecting a call."

Her pulse trips at that, but Clarke calmly nods her head and then intercedes when Jasper and Monty start squabbling over the last chocolate raspberry torte.

* * *

The thing is, Clarke hates weddings - she hates the materialism of it, the grandeur, the competition behind it - and she's largely suspicious of the institution of marriage in general.

But when her father passed away, the Griffin House became her responsibility - and her burden. Clarke hasn't spoken to her mother since the day of the funeral; the last Clarke knew, Abby Griffin had moved clear across the country to start over in California. 

This land, this house, is Clarke's birthright, but with both parents gone, it was incredibly lonely. 

It was actually Wells's idea to convert the house, to start an event business, and Clarke would forever be grateful to him for providing her with some direction (and distraction) during those dark days.

It's just her bad luck that the type of event that becomes synonymous with her home is weddings.

After eight years, though, she's built a staff that has allowed her to stay far away from all the boring, day-to-day details. 

When Bellamy Blake walks into her office, all swagger and charisma, it's the first time she regrets that she won't be dealing with him beyond this initial financial planning session, until it's time for him to cut the check.

Chastising herself for acting like an infatuated teenager, Clarke rises to her feet when her assistant Harper shows him in. "Mr. Blake, please, come in," she invites with a professional smile, offering her hand.

He takes it. "Bellamy, please. And I'm guessing you are the eponymous Griffin of the Griffin House." 

"That I am, but please call me Clarke." She waves him to a seat, leaning back against the desk on his side instead of going to sit in her chair. "Lexa explained your situation a bit, that you'll be financing your sister's wedding. We're very pleased that she's chosen to have her event with us."

He smirks, leaning back confidently in the chair and folding his hands over his flat stomach. "Yeah, I'd be happy, too, if I was going to be receiving a check for that much."

She can feel her smile tighten and inhales slowly through her nose to ease the flash of irritation. "As you say," she manages, moving back behind her desk to resume her seat, to put distance between them. "Now, Bellamy, based on Lexa's initial conversations with your sister and her fiance, here is the estimate. The final total will vary, of course, based on their specific needs." She slides the paper over to him, watching his eyebrows fly up as he reads it.

When he gets to the bottom, he lets out a low whistle, followed by a strained laugh. "Ouch." 

Clarke shifts uneasily, knowing how delicate a topic this can be for some people. "If necessary, we do offer a few financing options with a reasonable interest rate. Or you can always set a budget for the couple and Lexa can deter them from making any choices that might cause them to exceed their set amount."

He looks up at her, dark eyes burning like coals, and his smirk twists into an angry sneer. "Listen, princess, maybe I didn't grow up in a fancy mansion with manicured lawns, but I can afford to pay for my sister's wedding."

He's far from the first over-prideful client to throw her privilege in her face, but for some reason, it stings sharper coming from his lips. She struggles to stay professional. "Of course, Mr. Blake," she says in her most placating manner. She gestures to the estimate. "Do you have any questions for me or is this an agreeable amount?"

She can tell that there's something he wants to comment on, maybe a question, but he sighs and says, "This is fine. What do I need to sign?"

They spend a few minutes reviewing the client contract, with Clarke pointing out the most important bits, as she always does. As she's about to flip to the signature page, he stops her. 

"Sorry," he mutters, placing his hand over hers on the papers, making her pulse jump. "I'm having a tougher time with my sister getting married than I thought I'd have. I shouldn't take it out on you, though."

She pulls her hand free and flips to the last page with an understanding nod. "It's perfectly alright. You're not the first and I doubt you'll be the last. Weddings are an emotional business."

He watches her in quiet contemplation as she reviews the final page, interrupting her with, "Is that why you do this all? Do you enjoy all the emotions that come along with a wedding?"

"What?! No!" She pulls back and stares at him in shock, both at his question and at her blurted-out answer. He starts to grin a little bit, a dimple creasing his cheek, and it mesmerizes her for a second as she stammers. "That is... I mean..."

"So the wedding planning mogul doesn't even like weddings?" He chuckles a bit, leaning away from her desk. Then he shakes his head, expression bewildered. "Then why do it?"

"What else was I going to do with this house?" she retorts in uncharacteristic candor.

He quirks an eyebrow at her. "Maybe the exact same thing I'd guess your ancestors did with it: fill it with children?"

She can't keep the horror off her face. "Oh, God. There are fourteen bedrooms in this house."

He laughs outright, the sound deep and pleasant, and Clarke can't help but join him. 

After he's signed the necessary forms and Clarke is walking him out, she tells him, "Lexa will coordinate the sessions with Octavia. I've told her that she's to make sure you're included in every aspect, just as you've requested. If at any point, you feel that Lexa or the Griffin House is not the right fit for you, please make sure you call me immediately, so we can resolve your concerns."

In the doorway, he leans toward her a little. "Is that the only circumstance in which I can call you?"

She can feel a flush working its way up her neck and clears her throat, looking away from his mesmerizing gaze before she does something stupid. "That's probably for the best. We have a strict policy about fraternizing with the clients and the boss is kind of a stickler." She smirks up at him a bit, relieved when he returns it.

"Alright, Clarke Griffin," he says, offering his hand, which she takes, but he doesn't shake, just holds the contact. "Until the wedding, then?"

She smiles a bit, even though she knows she's playing with fire. "Oh, I'm sure we'll see each other around," she answers, sounding more coy than she intended.

But what the hell? After all, he won't  _always_ be a client.

* * *

The nice thing about being the boss, Clarke thinks as she zips her favorite navy pencil skirt and slides into her heels, is you have unlimited access to every area.

She can pop into the gardens whenever she likes, steal a bite from the kitchens, persuade Monroe to help her with an updo for the day, or even look at the event managers' schedules at any time.

Which is how she knows to be crossing the foyer just as Lexa is welcoming Bellamy and Octavia Blake in for their appointment.

"Clarke," Bellamy calls in greeting, then turns to his sister as Clarke makes her way over to them. "O, this is Clarke Griffin. Clarke, this is my sister Octavia."

Clarke shakes her hand and offers her congratulations, turning to include Lexa in the conversation. "What's on the agenda for today?"

Lexa begins talking but Clarke can only focus on the weight of Bellamy's stare, which shifts across the side of her face and down her profile like a caress.

It's nearly as distracting as his aftershave, a dark woodsy scent that gets to her head, but is just subtle enough that it only makes her want to get closer, to burrow her nose into the crook of his neck.

When Lexa falls silent, Clarke takes the cue and manages to reply, "Well, it sounds like you'll be in very capable hands." She looks over at the Blakes again, not letting her eyes linger on Bellamy and says goodbye, walking back towards her office with more swing in her hips, knowing his eyes are on her the entire time.

* * *

 

The months leading up to Octavia's wedding follow in a similar fashion - about every other appointment that Bellamy and Octavia have with Lexa, Clarke makes it a point to come across them somewhere on the grounds.

Once it's while they're looking at the gazebos for an outdoor wedding, once during a catering session, and once it's in Raven's studio as they review the different packages she offers for her photography.

As she pretends to stumble across them, Raven gives her a look that says Clarke is clearly fooling no one, so Clarke goes out of her way to avoid her friend the rest of the night.

The following day, though, she's not so lucky, when Raven is laying in wait as soon as Clarke wakes up. 

"You are  _so_ into him, it's not even funny," Raven says, climbing onto Clarke's bed as Clarke decides on her outfit for the day. "I can't believe the first person to break the 'no fraternization' policy is the boss."

"Uh, hang on just one second." Clarke turns with a hand on her hip. "One, I have not broken any policy and I don't intend to. Two, Jasper was the first one to break it, last summer, when he got caught with the mother of the groom during the rehearsal dinner."

The memory makes Raven grin as she wraps the fluffy white duvet around her, until she's bundled up like a burrito. "Oh, yeah. God, that shit was hilarious. I can't believe she thought that _Jasper_ of all people would make her ex jealous."

Clarke can laugh about it now, but at the time, she'd been furious. She sobers, though, as her thoughts turn back to Bellamy. "And you're right, I do like him. More than anyone else, in a long, long time." They share a significant glance, letting the look say everything they need to about their shared dating history.

Raven sighs sleepily and burrows into Clarke's bed further. "That's a good thing," she says, as her eyes start to droop and her breath evens out.

Clarke quietly creeps from the room to her en suite bath and lets Raven doze, and can't help but admit that Raven has a point. 

It is a good thing that she feels ready to open herself up again.

* * *

Clarke wakes early with a serious case of nerves the morning of the wedding and she laughs at herself, remembering the first few events and how she and Wells hardly slept due to their anxiety.

To think that she's nearly as on edge now, and all because of a client.

 _But he won't be a client by the end of the night_ , she reminds herself, then presses her palms to her roiling stomach.

She takes her time getting up and preparing for the day, allowing herself to take small pleasure in the rituals she usually performs with haste.

Lexa is already barking out orders like an army commander when Clarke makes it down to the main level. Jasper is helping Monty place the floral arrangements, while Anya is yelling at anyone who dares set foot in the kitchen.

Breakfast is catch-as-catch-can on wedding days and Clarke pulls apart a croissant as she watches the buzz around her. She'll pitch in soon enough, but the entire staff is aware that she's more than useless until she's had her first cup of coffee in the morning.

It isn't long before Octavia and the bridal party arrive, a relatively small troupe of girls, most of whom look like Lincoln's relatives, all headed by an intimidating woman named Indra.

Clarke pops her head into the set of rooms that they use for bridal prep and grins as she already sees Monroe hard at work styling the flower girl's hair.

"Clarke!" Octavia jumps to her feet, her face glowing with excitement over the day, and she grabs Clarke's hand to squeeze.

"Are you all set?" Clarke asks.

Octavia beams. "I've never been more ready for anything in my entire life." She falters a bit, her eyes shining with tears, but the smile stays on her face. "I can't believe we're finally getting married."

Clarke hands her a tissue and wraps an arm around her shoulders. "Get it all out now, because Monroe over there will get mean if you start that after she's put your face on."

It makes Octavia laugh a little wetly, just in time for a voice to say from the doorway, "You show up without me one time and they already drove you to tears."

Clarke's breath catches and she looks over to see Bellamy lounging over the threshold, a garment bag draped over his arm, smiling gently at his sister.

"Oh, Bell," Octavia says, running over to throw her arms around her brother, burying her face into his neck.

Bellamy cups a hand over the back of her head and whispers something to her that makes her laugh again and playfully punch him in the stomach. He looks up at Clarke then, eyes dark and full of mischief. "You see the thanks I get for financing this whole thing? No respect."

Clarke smiles at him, enjoying this previously-unseen side of him. "I guess you didn't read the fine print of the contracts you signed. Nowhere in there did it say that you'd be  _respected_." 

"That fine print'll get you ever time," he says mournfully, dropping a kiss on Octavia's head before pulling away. "Well, I guess I'll go sit in the groom's suite, all by myself, until that bunch shows up." He quirks a brow at Clarke, a smile curling his lips. "Unless someone wants to keep me company."

She gives him a sultry stare as she walks forward until she's standing in the doorway with him, a breath away from having her body flush up against his, before she says brightly, "Sorry, Bellamy, today's a busy day and I need this job to go off without a hitch." She winks at Octavia over her shoulder as his sister laughs and she walks away to the sound of Bellamy grumbling.

* * *

 

Watching Octavia and Lincoln promise to love, honor and cherish one another doesn't change Clarke's view on marriage or weddings or any of that. 

But it does make her happy to see two people enjoying the moment and sharing their love with their friends and family. And in the end, that's why she continues to do this and will for the foreseeable future.

After the ceremony, the wedding party files out of the Carriage House to follow Raven around parts of the gardens for their portraits. Bellamy catches Clarke's eye and gives her a slow smile that kindles something in her chest and she can't stop the silly grin that crosses her face.

They don't get a chance to talk until after the wedding dinner is cleared and the newlyweds have had their first dance. Clarke is lending Jasper a hand behind the bar, keeping a steady flow of champagne going, when Bellamy walks over and touches her arm, asking her for a dance.

"Give me a minute," she tells Jasper and leads Bellamy away from the crowd a bit, finally stopping far enough away that they can speak without anyone overhearing. "Bellamy, you're still my client tonight. I'm flattered, but a dance wouldn't be appropriate."

He nods as though understanding, then reaches into his jacket and pulls out his checkbook. "Okay, then, let's settle the bill. Once the check changes hands, I'm not really your client anymore, am I?"

She gapes at him, then snaps her mouth closed, trying to fight the smile she can feel tugging at her lips. "Bellamy."

"I mean it, Clarke. What's the damage? I'll write it here and now and then we can go in share a dance, maybe two. If things get really crazy, maybe you'll even have a drink with me." He smirks at her and waves the checkbook. "Looking to you, princess."

Huffing out a breathless laugh, she shrugs. "Okay, what the hell. But I don't have the total here. It's up in my office, if you want to follow me."

"After you," he says, waving his hand. 

They're silent all the way up to the house, the tension crackling in the quiet, and Clarke takes him in the back way through the kitchen.

She maintains her professionalism as she logs into her computer, pulls up his invoice, prints his copy, and collects his check. 

As soon as she turns back around, though, from locking the check in her desk, he's there, cupping her face in his big hands and sealing his mouth over hers.

She groans at the contact, pressing her hands flat to his stomach, then gradually smoothing them under his jacket to wrap her arms around his waist.

He tastes like the good champagne he'd used to toast his sister's wedding and smells like his sinful aftershave and she wants to inhale every bit of him, has never felt so burnt alive by desire in her entire life.

She helps him shrug out of his fitted jacket (that he wears oh so well, but it doesn't suit her needs at this time) and then she breaks free of his kiss, turning to wipe everything off her desk, biting her lip when he presses into her back, hips aligned with hers, tilting her head up so he can get to the spot beneath her ear that makes her all but purr.

"You're so beautiful," he's murmuring into her neck, sucking and biting and no doubt leaving marks, but Clarke glories in it, in his hunger. "I can't believe we're finally here."

"I know, I know." She helps him find the hidden zipper on her side, shuddering as he takes his time lowering, following the line of exposed skin with a brush of his blunt finger. "Bellamy," she whines, pressing back into him, needing him to hurry.

She feels his grin against her shoulder, followed by the slightest pressure of his teeth nipping at her, before he turns her in his arms and helps her shed her dress in a flurry of movements.

They work just as desperately to get his clothes off and finally he's pressing into her, pressing her down onto her desk. The coolness of the wood is a shock, making her arch up, and he groans and has to take a moment to collect himself before he can continue. 

Each thrust moves her a little further up the surface and she wraps her legs around his hips in order to keep them pressed together, to keep him as deep in her as he can get, her hands digging into his back.

At some point, he pauses and moves so she's above him, and the change in position makes sparks fly behind Clarke's eyes as she rides him to her own completion, although his isn't far behind.

"Well," she says breathlessly after a few minutes, laying her head on his heaving chest, delighting in the pounding of his heart that matches her own hammering pulse, "it was a pleasure doing business with you."

He laughs so hard that they fall off the desk onto her office floor, which hurts for a second, before he finds a suitably appropriate way to distract her from the pain.

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to come talk to me on [tumblr](http://itsactuallycorrine.tumblr.com)


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